July = Story
I imagine people gathering around a campfire or hearth, at the end of the day, hopefully with bellies filled, to talk among themselves, and perhaps listen to a designated story-teller. What did the story-teller say? What information was convey through story of who these people were, what was happening in their world, and what was needed in their community gathered together in the dark? This may be purely romantic imagination, and not at all factual.
And yet, we too gather around hearths and campfires. What happens when we do? What stories do we tell? Do we hear one story, or many?