SUNFLOWER POWER

It's another hot, humid day in the Ozarks. The front porch is pleasant this morning, although, in another hour this won't be the case. I set my fresh mug of coffee on the cast iron bistro table, and pulled up a chair. More sunflowers are beginning to bloom in front of the house. I hear them murmuring amongst themselves. Or is it merely the gentle breeze caressing every object in its path, causing voice-like vibrations to bounce off my eardrums; convincing me that the messages I'm receiving are meant for me to understand.

"We all know everything gives off a frequency--a vibration specific to a particular thing, whether it be living or considered to be nonliving." It spoke out loud, in an almost unperceivable whisper, then sighed deeply, and--and tisked. "Tisk, tisk.' Letting me know, very subtly, that it disapproved of my very existence.

"All right! That's enough! Plants cannot talk. Sunflowers are plants. You are a sunflower, therefore,
you cannot speak! So shut up!" I stupidly blurted.

"Plants vibrate with frequencies. As each stone has a particular frequency, like the quartz that vibrates inside your watch, every species of plant has its own frequency. Everything in nature vibrates, and you humans must learn to be quiet and listen to what is being taught. You always have your televisions, radios, and computers on. You're always in your cars going v-v-r-room, v-v-r-room, or talking in loud obnoxious voices at each other into those ridiculous mind discombobulating cellphones." She lectured, ignoring my command to keep quiet.

"Wh--who--wh--what are you?" I stuttered.

"Mother Manikiel, your personal plant guru." She offered me her largest leaf, in a gesture reminiscent of a handshake. I carefully clasped it in my outstretched hand, and attempted a delicate leaf-shake.

"I never requested a plant guru!"

"No one ever does."  Mother Manikiel responded. Her lip was starting to curl up in that disapproving sneer again.

"I think the goat milk in my coffee is rancid. I'm poisoned! That's why I'm hallucinating!" I sniffed my lukewarm mug of coffee. It smelled okay. I turned my attention back to Mother Manikiel; however, she was now ignoring me, staring off into the sun. She seemed downright contented. I decided to just let her be.

A honey bee appeared, landing on the tip of the sunflower's nose. She appeared to enjoy its company much more than she did mine.

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SUNFLOWER SAGA BEGINS

Speaking of sunflowers; this very morning I was outside, sitting on the porch enjoying my small

daily allotment of organic coffee laced with a splash of goat milk, when I noticed another bright
yellow corona shining brilliantly from atop its long, sturdy green stem. It appeared to be trying to gain my full attention—swaying gently to and fro, in spite of the fact that there was no breeze!

I got up to investigate, closely observing the plant's large, craggy floret-face, crowned with a circle
of vibrant yellow rays, peering up at me. She wasn't exactly smiling—her expression was more like
a sneer. It wasn't a disgusting sneer; rather it was a condescending I-am-so-superior-to-you smirk. 

“What are you staring at?” She asked, her upper lip quivering slightly.

Of course, I know that a sunflower can't speak, let alone ask questions. So I continued to gaze into

the creature's frowning face; my mouth agape in wonderment. Why was I hearing voices—uh, one
voice: A plant vocalizing a legitimate, well founded question?

“Oh, I see that you are too stupid to answer. Humans usually are.” She huffed in obvious contempt;
then, sighing, she turned her large round head toward the sun, ignoring me entirely.

I went back to my bistro chair on the front porch, taking a long sip of my warm coffee. The

temperature was ninety degrees in the shade. The heat was definitely getting to me . . . .

“Manikari, Manikiel, you'll see things clearly after while. Flitter, flutter, listen to the words we
utter. Manikiel, Manikari, you'll have wisdom like a fairy.”

The sunflower mantra repeated over and over. I continued to drink from my coffee mug, determined

to pretend that the world around me was exactly the way I perceived it to be.

THE SUNFLOWER KINGDOM

We provide sunflower seeds for the local bird population, and keep a well stocked feeder year round. It's fun to watch the various species as they flit to and fro, snatching a single seed. In this frenzy, many of the seeds end up right below the feeder on the ground, where they get eaten by more birds, and the morning squirrels that come to feed on tree nuts in the early hours after the feral cats are done prowling the neighborhood.

Many of the seeds escape hungry mouths. Each spring, a little garden of tiny sunflower plants emerge to ward off attacks by the nocturnal creatures, such as raccoons, who love crisp, green seedlings sprouting fresh and dewy from the damp, dark soil!

Every two or three years, a good portion of the seedlings make it through the whole ordeal. They grow to adulthood, ruling the front of the house, their golden corona's worn proudly--like the bloomin' royalty, except for the fact that they have earned the privilege. 

Recipe for Sugar, Cinnamon, Spice, Everything Nice

Quite by accident, I invented this yummy whole grain pancake topping just this morning. I had scraped the very last spoonful of bilberry jam from its glass jar, when I noticed the little
half-empty bottle of Ceylon cinnamon on the counter top. Next to it was a large container of organic sugar, and next to that was a bottle of organic, finely ground black seeds. Hmm . . .

Impulsively, I poured about a quarter cup of sugar into the cinnamon spice jar, then added a little less than one teaspoon full of black seed powder. I replaced the cap, then shook everything vigorously until it was perfectly blended before sprinkling a generous portion on my pancake. Wow! What a flavorable combination.

Black seed is a healthy herb with interesting tasting undertones. I'm finding out that it complements a variety of foods --

from hot Mexican dishes, to sweet savory desserts. I am going to add a spoonful of whole black seeds to my black pepper grinder next and discover the subtle results during dinner tonight.

Take Time for God and Tea

Sir Kenelm Digby wrote The Closet . . .Excellent Directions for Cookery, that was published in 1669. He included a tonic/dessert recipe, 'Tea with Eggs,' which incorporated the following tea brewing instructions: "The hot water is to remain upon it [the tea] no longer than whiles you can say the Miserere Psalm [Psalm 51] very leisurely."

 

I tested his expertise yesterday by preparing this weird-for-modern-day sugar, egg, and tea concoction. I even dusted off my mother's old copy of the Holy Bible: The New King James Version, and read Psalm 51 aloud and leisurely 'whiles' brewing my organic Japanese green tea, as per instructions. It took me a very l-o-n-g two minutes and seventeen seconds to read it; however, the tea turned out to be perfect! The sugar and egg combination was set aside, and later put to use in a batch of organic sugar cookies.

 

Mother's old Bible is back where it belongs, buried deep within the lower level of one of the bookshelves, right where it will stay until the next time I decide to experiment with time, tea, and totally absurd post-Renaissance dessert recipes.

 

Depending on what biblical version one uses, and one's definition of 'leisurely,' it is probably safe to say that the perfect cuppa can be obtained if left to brew for more than two minutes, but less than three, according to God's Holy Word.

 

My Day

Gray-blue dusk washes over the yard,

Leaf-green plants fade into dark forest patterns

beckoning the shades of evening to be drawn

down--down-descending to their lowest estate.

Midnight shadows pass by on their way to usher in evening.

 

Deer walk a trail through the forest field

feasting on ever-deepening greenery during dinner hour.

Silent, blending back into the woods from which they

emerged a while earlier, disappearing into impending night.

Day carelessly slips away, never to return in its present state.

copyright © 2013 z.d. brenton