We're having quite a drought here in the Upper Smith River Drainage District. Not, not a rainwater drought. We're having a sunshine drought. There's plenty of rain -- our leaky pond is as full as we've seen it in 11 years. We haven't had to water the rhodos or the impatiens or the knockout roses or the hostas or the yews or the tomatoes or the cukes --- ok, the cukes don't look good, but that's not because of a lack of water. Maybe they're getting drowned. But a little more sun might help them. We didn't make enough bread-and-butter pickles last summer and I hope not to make the same mistake two years in a row. C'mon, cukes!
The good side is we're seeing more varieties of fascinating little wildflowers pop up everywhere. We've seen the biggest patch ever of fire pinks, a john-in-the-pulpit, a turk's head (I think), and some amazing purplish spirea. The flame azaleas have been unbelievably bright. And some thin rows of wild daisies have popped up around the new garden shed.
But we haven't seen much sun this summer -- more overcast skies than direct sunlight, it seems, though the days are nice and cool. I shouldn't complain. We just spent a week down at Figure 8 Island and when the sun was out there it was hot as fire and as humid as Washington in August. As someone who has had a bunch of precancerous lesions removed from aging fair skin, I'm not complaining. It's 64 degrees this morning on our ridge and the breeze is blowing and if I can remember correctly, that's why we moved here and not to, say, Eastern N.C. or South Georgia below the gnat line.
Weather's fine. Come on in. You won't need your sunglasses. But bring a jacket.