This is the year of the sunflower, and the drought, and a few other things.
After last year’s bust of a sunflower crop, my husband, Radames, nurtured these beauties through woodchuck attacks and squirrel carnage. Today, he picked the last of this particular batch…big huge blooms that the chipmunks were munching away at…we will keep them on the table a few days and then put them outside, up high, for the birds.
In celebration of 19 years here, I thought I’d try a theme for a while: 19 years on the farm. I’ll let you know if it works out. My husband said to tell you this isn’t a farm, and it really isn’t. But it was a farm and it is a lot closer to a farm than my homeland, the suburbs. I like to say I live out in the middle of nowhere but then I am reminded that there is a Dunkin Donuts about 4 miles down the road.
It is September 18, 2016.
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Sunflowers picked by Radames and photo-shopped by me.
I realize that is a long title but it sums up what I saw yesterday. At the end of a long, hot week and a long hot month where the random fluctuations in my little universe have challenged me to rise up and cope, I was dismayed at the following scene.
