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.