I want to go and play with the mermaids

I am sitting here, at my computer, and imagining how nice it would be to write a post about my garden. But I'm distracted by the rivulet of sweat that is running down the side of my head. That and the tendrils of hair that are determined to stick to the back of my neck. I try and think cool thoughts, about the bitter winter we have just barely recovered from, the mounds of snow, the feeling of the cold wind as it dug under my pants leg while I shovel. The pinch of the snow harsh on my already cold fingers, I shiver, but it is not from the cold. Cool thoughts are not working, I am melting. Sadder than a discarded ice cream cone on a beach front sidewalk. This is record breaking heat, hot enough to fry a egg. I want to go play with the mermaids. This is heat that knows no boundaries, hot all day, even hotter at night, never cooling down, no respite from it anywhere. Cranky, sweaty, sticky, heat, humidity levels as high as if you stepped into a shower. To hot to work, to hot to photograph, no breeze, the air stilled, silent, but for the drone of fans. I long for the deep ocean water, chilling, cooling, blue. There is no breeze, for this sticky sea side city. Seagulls lazily stir the scorching air, as they circle above dive bombing those few hardy souls who dare to stick their heads outside. No longer able to cope, I grab the camera and go outside, I will contend with this heat, it will not win, it can not beat me. I am a mermaid, cool, green-blue, just sleek with sweat, and glistening from moisture that is not seawater. Standing in the garden, a euphoria takes over from the grip that the heat has had on me. There is joy in losing myself in the camera. Happiness in focusing and concentrating on something other than how to keep cool. And as I stand in the baking sun, there is a soft tickling at the back of my shirt. I turn to see who it might be. It is a breeze, a cool, beautiful breeze.