Sunflowers and the Four-Legged Tree

In our backyard, a riotous orgy of growth: the wild forest of sunflowers that springs up annually, a thick three-dimensional scrim taking up loads of ground-space, reaching as much as six or seven feet into blue sky. Our yearly summer panorama, re-inscribing myriad stems on last year's palimpsest of sunflowers. Acolytes of Amun-Ra . . . devotees of the day's eye . . . morning's minions, the A.M. . . . amanuenses of am. Sunflowers: girasol, helianto, las flores del sol (SPANISH) . . . mirasol, mga bulaklak ng araw (FILIPINO). Seers of the sun, soothsayers of light, la luz, ilaw, liwanag. Illumination, insight, epiphany, nirvana. A spray of words, dustmotes, canary and mahogany, dilaw at kayumanggi, yellow and dark brown. Isn't that last photo above simply amazing? I think this particular plant was broken by that windstorm described in my last post. Look how devastated and dilapidated the stem is that arises out of the grass. But the top quarter of the plant has raised itself from the ground and the flower is ready to track the sun in the sky. Incredible. Living things abide. Speaking of living things that abide: some news about the four-legged tree featured last time. The tree experts who were consulted have decided that the tree is just too dangerous because half of the canopy is gone. In another windstorm, the rest of the branches could break off and either damage the house or fall on cars in the street. So all the branches of the tree have been lopped off, and the hope is that the tree will survive and start to push out offshoots that could eventually become a full canopy. There is already new hope. Look at this close-up: a couple of offshoots have sprouted. The tree is still living and abides. As do we all. I hope you are well. Abide and be strong.