Here's a quotation from Henry David "Hank" Thoreau (I think only a few of his Transcendentalist friends called him Hank) about the month of August:
"In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees,gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs."
- Henry David Thoreau
I found the quotation, which amounts to a nice little prose-poem, at . . .