Soak Up the Sun

I’ve been keeping a closer eye on a certain plant in the garden for several weeks now. It has been a game, really. The plant is a sunflower. As you likely know, it looks at the sun all day long. So, in amusement, I watch it to make sure it is looking at the sun. Occasionally I catch it glancing off to the side at the neighbor kids playing basketball.

It has been hot here lately, 90plus degrees with above average humidity. We have reached the point of the season where we look forward to cooler times. This week, in particular, the thermometers reached a consensus of about 98F on Wednesday. The tomatoes began to blush. I picked handfuls of the little ones. It was in the warm evening of that hot Wednesday when I noticed the sunflower was not watching the sunset. As I crouched down on the dirt, amidst the various fruiting vines, that giant sunflower loomed overhead, 12 feet into the sky. It had turned its back to the hot sun. Enough. It appeared to have its fill of sun. I agreed.

I assume the sunflower was reaching maturity, unfurling its yellow petals, signaling to the birds “I’m almost ready!” It no longer needed the direct light. It’s a short life. A butterfly drew close to that yellow bull’s-eye, encircled it 3 times and settled for a while.
I squinted up into that searing, setting sun and realized we are midway through our summer here. A hovering, backlit haze of translucent flitterbugs whirled through the yard. Dusty heartbeats. Brief.

Eat your warm veggies. Soak up the sun. Now’s your chance.

Garden Update 6

It's been about a month since the last Garden Update. Here's the partial summary. The vineheld veggies have come on strong. The corn was a disappointment...underformed ears on dwarfed stalks... I'll have to figure that one out. The beats were few but tasty in a marinade of garlic honey vinegar. Small potatoes have been dug and braised. Dill heads have burst open around the garden like low, sundappled fireworks. Pickle jars are filling up the fridge. 2nd plantings have started. Rains lately have blessed the bounty.

A Bejungled Blackwater

The sun burned down as I found my way to a bejungled blackwater off the shoulder of highway 17 downeast near Wilmington NC. It was a solitary sidetrip to a relaxing beachy weekend with Heather. As I continue to craft a wonder for locales both native and natural; ordinary yet offbeat, I pause to consider why I’m drawn to these places. It has something to do with not wanting to take things for granted. I don’t want to overlook the often-overlooked. I’m curious. Oh, and I’m cheap…so, for now, instead of flying to Belize, I wander to the edge of town for a sustainable sojourn. Occasionally I’m rewarded for these myopic tendencies.

Town Creek, like many of our southern blackwater streams, slides quietly through a dark bottomland of cypress and gum. This one feels the slight push and pull of the tides as it shares water with the Cape Fear River. I have only taken my canoe on one other such stream and I was then accompanied by 6 adventurous men. Now it was just me and my red canoe…and two competing emotions: awe and apprehension. The awe was focused on the lush greenery swaying below the waterline, and on the palmettos, water lilies, silvery fish schools, and a vibrantly golden Prothonotary Warbler. The apprehension intermittently reminded me that I was alone in a swamp, that hordes of yellow flies could descend on me at any time, and that those lily pads could easily conceal a hungry gator intent on bagging the rare solo canoeist. I scanned the mudflats casually for tracks and swatted only a few times at the annoying yellow fly. I sat often in the shade listening to exotic songbirds and recalling the tale of a lone orchid thief risking much worse conditions in a similar yet far distant swamp.