Gaillardia pulchella

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another name is “Indian blanket.”

The bloom appeared this morning. Summer solstice is near. In the Northern Hemisphere, June 21, 2015 is the longest day of the year. Solstice means sun (sol) stop (stice). On that day, the sun here stands still in the sky and then begins its long slow inexorable retreat back to the south, leaving cooler times behind.

But, not now. Not yet. Now are the days of the sun.

Beside the roads and in the fields, Indian blankets wave their colors to announce the heat. This flower loves the hot weather. With the rising temperatures, Indian blanketflowers unfurl across the Lone Star landscape, crowning each day in a firewheel of sundance color.

While, in the shade, the last of the quiet pinks bloom and sway in the lite summer breeze.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A phlox, I think. This one defies precise description. I cannot find it exactly pictured on the pages of my wildflower manual. For me, it is “phlox” for its resemblance to my favorite springtime wildflower. On Highway 71 just outside Smithville beginning the climb into the Lost Pines and on to Bastrop, the soil on the sloughing hillsides changes and turns a reddish tint. There, in the shade, I see the wild phlox as I race by on my drive to Austin. The ones you see here are, I think, friends to those, if not close related. Here, they are the last to pass in spring as we speed for summer.

And, Citrullus lanatus.

The watermelon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Watermelon is the quintessential summer fruit. I say this with respect for its edible berry. The exterior rind is hard and smooth, often with the dark green stripes you see here. Insides are juicy and sweet, usually a red to pink color, replacing in shades our fading phlox. Seeds are within, offering entertainment to children on a summer’s eve.

Old as the Pharaohs and young as tonight, the watermelon is to all lands a delight and distraction whatever the latitude it holds in sway.

 

 

That was a bit of whimsy from a place appearing not so hot as that of our Gaillardia pulchella, one more in temperament with the pink phlox, hills and dales that may with waning sun wish the warmth of an Indian Blanket, faraway lands dancing in the light tune and sway of their own watermelons, and, for that, close indeed to us and ours.

Happy Summer, wherever you may be and whatever the weather.

There’s always fun to be found close by.

Watermelon.

 

Grandpa Jim