Finally, yesterday, the heat broke in Mercyburg. Suddenly I can’t remember if I have been spelling it Mercyberg or Mercyburg. I also suddenly realized giving my realm such a name would make me a Mercyburger. That’s just damn funny, aside from the fact that Mercy Burger sounds like some kind of edible vegan patty. Or in a macabre Poe-inspired story, some kind of euthanasia meal. Or in the way folks used to put dog pills inside frankfurters, mercy burgers could be medicated patties. I will not be offended at all if you steal any of those ideas. But in this particular application, a Mercyburger is a person who lives in Mercyburg. So Mercy Burgers are made of people. Mwahahaha.
But to my original point, yesterday was the happiest day of the year for Mercyburgers. Summer finally ended on October 11th. It technically falls on a different day each year; sometimes sooner, sometimes later. But whichever day it comes it is as eagerly awaited as a pre-planned holiday. The humidity goes further South for the winter. We get cool. We will still have some rogue 80 degree days sprinkled in for leftover karma, but it is mostly cool for a while.
Those of us with pitta dosha are sore in the happy-dance muscles (mostly inner thighs and abs). By those of us I really mean only me. Everyone else is already complaining. Yesterday morning I went out with a headcover just because I could. Sun wasn’t up yet. I just wanted to feel chilled as an act of celebration. I let the camera randomize its special effects and the result was deliciously witchy. I called it Our Lady of the Grateful Morning. Some ancient goddesses were hags, you know.
What did I tell you in my last post? When you’re a writer a thing is not just a thing. It is part of a story. Somewhere in a parallel universe (my brain) someone swears she saw the Witch of Mercyburg walking in a field near the church before sunrise. A wild dog came when the Mercy Witch beckoned. They stood studying the stars, checked a spiderweb guarding a rosemary bush, and then retreated into the shadows. Swear; it was real.
Later in the morning I didn’t want the party to end so I wore a hat to work. Some dolt said, “Oh, you look so Spring-y.” Sigh.
Nonetheless, the day the heat breaks is a de facto holiday, Holy Halt of Hell Heat, complete with ritual headgear and the conjuring of ancient legends. The day the mosquitoes die is an even bigger day: Day of the Dead Killer Drillers. Armistice with insects throughout the land! Our blight of bite is abated! Rejoice! All hail! It’s not here yet but it’s coming. In fact, that’s probably what the Mercy Witch was doing out there in the dark before the dawn. Making a dastardly deal with the Mosquito King. Tick tock mother sucker.
Is seasonal wellness a thing? SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) usually refers to glum because of winter. I get it in the summer. In the winter I get — well, what’s the opposite of SAD? Would it be SAW? Seasonal Affective Wellness? Or is it order? Isn’t order the opposite of disorder?
Seasonal Affective Delight. Yeah, that’s it.