As its name implies, August is the grandest and the most majestic of all the months of the year. It is also the loudest, louder even than July. One has only to look about at its vegetation, at its displays of brilliant color in its lush, overgrown gardens, and then recall in mind's eye the almost sedate bouquets of July's fireworks. Moreover, August's flowers do not simply flare for a brief moment before they arc and fade forever into the darkness. Rather, they mature gradually throughout the summer until, in a final burst of brilliance, they return to the roots whence they rose. When it is time they will bloom again. August, it might be said, is summer's grand finale.
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