The summer solstice, when the sun is at its highest peak in the sky, has long since passed. It occurred June 21st, marking the first day of summer. Ironically, this also marked the first day of winter in the Southern Hemisphere. Though daylight has been waning a few minutes each day since then, you wouldn’t know it by what the deep south has been enduring for the last month or so. Record high temperatures have plagued our lawns and gardens, not to mention crops of dryland cotton and soybeans. Even the Ozark Pink variety of tomato, which will not split during normal growing conditions, gave up the ghost this summer. I have never seen this variety split, but alas, there’s always a first.
Air conditioners have been tested to the limit, with many of them succumbing to what Mother Nature offered. Trust me, I know firsthand. That was a nice little check that won’t be used for what I intended. Of course, weighing the options of sleeping for the rest of the summer in sweat-soaked sheets, or paying the “man,” didn’t take long. My grandfather would have shuddered in his brogans if he knew what the cost of a new unit is today. To put this in perspective, he never had air conditioning, except for one small window unit centrally located in his quaint home. You know, he and the family he raised made it just fine. I almost feel guilty to complain about the inconveniences in life and the cost of everything these days. I suppose it’s all about choices and how spoiled many of us are. I could do without as well. Worse things could occur for sure.
I lost two first cousins this year just a few months apart. Mac Miller and Tommy Miller were Vietnam veterans, making them almost a decade older than me. Their mother, my Aunt Inez, is spry as a spring chicken at the age of 97. She’s an inspiration, especially with losing both of her sons in the same year. This reaffirmed the fact of how fragile life is and perhaps even more eye opening is how quickly it passes. I struggle with balance. Not in the literal sense, but I suppose a better word to describe the calamity would be moderation. I have never been very good at reaching a balance/moderation in work, play, or even life for that matter. Its an all or nothing agenda for me. The sad news is that at the stage I am in my life, I probably never will be able to moderate. The message here is that we all experience the passing of time, and the years click by faster and faster. Hold on to that thought as I move forward.
I have a friend who has reminded me more than once that we have more sunrises and sunsets behind us than we do in front of us. This is a very sobering thought and I contemplate it often. Take this year, we have more months behind us than we have ahead of us. Do you remember cutting your lawn for the first time this spring? Now you can probably count on one hand how many more times your lawn will need addressing until frost puts the finishing touches on it. Did I say frost? Is this word even acceptable to mention with what we are still experiencing? You bet it is! Though we may think summer will never give way to crisp blue skies and sustained north winds, rest assured, the end is closer than you think.
I remember closing the laptop when I submitted the last article of the season back in February. There was indeed, a long, hot growing season ahead of me before I would return to the study with pen, pad, and working gray matter. I think back now on my first articles ever written for the “Sun.” It’s been a minute ago, for sure. I still have every article I’ve written and shared with you. Speaking of how the years pass, it’s still hard to imagine how many wonderful years I have been able to bring the fields, streams, and woodlands to your homes each week during the “writing” season. I used to think that studying the topics at hand would be my best way put them into words and share with you in an informative, but entertaining fashion. I quickly learned, at least from my viewpoint, that my best work seems to come from experiences, not from a written text.
I never studied the formal “art” of writing. My knowledge of the swamp and the ability of transferring it to your dens and firesides is a gift which I do not take for granted. Maybe it is better described as a blessing, again, that I do not take for granted. It is so easy in today’s world, with one finger, to find an abundance of information with a click of a button. Though this information is easily attainable, I have found that the easier it is to find “knowledge,” the more readily it escapes and evaporates from one’s mind. Conversely, the harder one works at acquiring and quenching the thirst for knowledge of a particular subject, the longer it sticks with you. Does this make sense? In our modern, fast-paced world, we rush to acquire knowledge or experiences, and then move on to bigger and better things. Do you cheat yourself by gulping a glass of a vintage wine, or do you savor the experience as much as the flavor? Think about it, and tell me if I’m on to something. Well, I have good news.
If you have followed me for years, by now you know it’s time for another season of “Outdoors in the Sun.” I have the luxury of bringing the outdoor world to your doorsteps each week for many years. Alas, by the grace of God, we’re all here for another season. I have been thinking all spring and summer about what exciting topics, at least to me, that I could mold and form and bring to you for your reading experience. I have had readers reach out to me recently asking when the articles would come to life again. The time is thus.
For the next six months, we’ll be diving into a vast array of subjects. I will admit, I have become increasingly fascinated with the origin of the first inhabitants of North America. Was Clovis really the first indigenous people of North America? Did they come from Beringia along the western coastline, or did they migrate through a receding glacier formation between the Cordilleran and the Laurentide ice sheet? Every time I find a stone tool artifact, my mind begins to both wonder and wander. I won’t spoil it by getting into too much detail now, I would rather plant the seed for what is to come.
We’ll dive into life of the flora and the fauna. We’ll share stories of campfires and what they really mean besides offering a source of warmth during fall and winter. I hope to describe in detail, the brisk winds of November and the sting of sleet to your cheek, so much in fact, that you will lift the collar of your jacket even while sitting inside your homes.
Sorghum molasses, or sugar cane syrup, which do you prefer with a slice of red-rind hoop cheese melted on a thin biscuit. Does it really matter which if you’re in the duck blind with coffee warming your hands. What will the migration of waterfowl be like this fall? We’ll talk about new regulations regarding turkey season, or not. How was your spring season? Are you ready for fall football and tailgating or do you wish you were in a tree with stick and string? Do you recall the aroma from the kitchens beginning around Halloween and continuing through the new year? I’ll invite you to bring out the cookbooks that hold the treasures of candies, pies, and gumbos. Can you taste it yet? I can almost myself.
The best time of the year, in my opinion, is upon us. At the beginning of the article, I mentioned how the months and years pass quickly. The same goes with fall and winter. As fast as the seasons come, they too will be gone in a fleeting moment. My job at hand is to invite you to slow down and leave the chaotic world behind for a few hours each week. Take a deep breath of cold air into your lungs when it gets here, and taste the offering. I’ll do my best to invite you to the party. Thank you in advance for the opportunity to write for you. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s here. Sit back and relax, it’s going to be a good one. Until next time, enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.
