Words for summer

festering
stale
poached

There are a few words that describe the complete desolation that occurs when the first sweat of summer falls on the ground, as my body drips dry and slowly I will become not much more than a husk in the desert heat.

Without a destination, a real goal, something to strive for, the heat will eat you alive... first it starts with your thoughts, melting away as easily as the breeze would blow away a dandelion; if you can't distract your mind for long enough, you lose it to the heat. Sanity is the first casualty in the war against that great orb of fire.

These are how my days have been, the sun itself a beacon of energy and warmth ironically destroys my will to do anything - I feel slower, all around. Sluggish, poisoned by thoughts of nicer days and a more abrupt summer followed by an endless winter.

I have already tried my hand at beating the infernal heat on its own terms... I was thoroughly defeated, defeated in a way that will make me rue the thought of dehydration ever again. Water is the best and most worthwhile weapon to use. Never forget that.

Enjoy the spring while it lasts, those crisp days are too few and far between the months to be considered as a time to get things done, to create, to flourish. Now in the dead of summer is the time of hardly working, working hard maintaining the frail weak existence for a few hours of sunlight until the moon heroically leaps to the sky... then the time changes and a new, parallel form of life blooms in the dusk. Sight is not necessarily everything. Sounds and smells are boundless compared to sight in the evenings.

As the warmth extends deep into the night, there is hardly a need for the comforts of daylight, many things are rendered useless. It is a tragic thought that so many things are useful due to the day/night cycle.

It will pass, and in the meantime I have things to do, work to be done, crafts to sharpen, arts to form. The end of Summer comes ever closer... and with it the end of madness. Good riddance when it goes.