Now, as the midpoint of summer rushes toward us, it is apparent that the days are drawing in. Dawn is more grudging with its earliest light, and evening shadows grow long before we are quite ready for darkness to come. July arrived only a moment ago, but we blinked, and now the month has packed its bags and departed.

But the change from July to August is like the opening of a Great Pond; everything stays the same, but the character of the content alters. The August people are here, and the reckless headlong skitter through the days accelerates. In other words, it's summer on Martha's Vineyard, and the weather is flashing its usual perfection.