The Mid-Summer Slump

I have a love/hate relationship with July.

Aug 04, 2026

I have a love/hate relationship with July.

I don’t know why this happens to me, but every year, around the last week of July, I hit a mid-summer slump. I don’t know if it’s the weather (New England in July has a tendency to feel like the inside of a dog’s mouth), the perpetual lack of a normal schedule, or something else entirely, but I seem to hit a wall every year, right as we’re about to pass from July into August.

Which is strange, because I love summer—especially New England summers.

And July is a really lovely month. It’s filled with an abundant garden, swimming, travel, beach days, fireworks, long warm afternoons, and mild evenings. And yet, by the end of the month, I can’t even remember what I was doing with my life before summer started. Everything productive has been replaced by sunscreen, wet towels, and asking, “Does anyone know where the goggles are?” Somehow, that always leaves me feeling a little untethered.

You’d think I’d expect this by now. It’s happened nearly every year for the last decade. But somehow it always sneaks up on me. I wake up in a funk, wonder what’s wrong, glance at the calendar, and think, Ah. The mid-summer slump.

I’m tired of my summer clothes, craving more structured, productive days, and my tomatoes aren’t even ripe yet.

I don’t know why I’m like this, and I don’t really know what the solution is. But August—with its slightly milder weather and earlier sunsets—always seems to pull me back into a love affair with summer.

I know that by the end of the month planners and freshly sharpened pencils will be making their annual return, but for now I’m going to enjoy sun-kissed skin, popsicles on the lawn, the yearly hydrangea bloom, and these final few weeks of a New England summer.

Now, I really should go check on my tomatoes.

Anyway, happy August.