Buttercups

These first two shots of a field of buttercups at James Store hill in Gloucester were taken with my loaner camera.*  


Buttercups are an aggravation in my yard where they flourish; but they're pretty when they're flourishing like a sea of yellow in someone else's soybean field on the side of busy Route 14.

The buttercup below (with the white shirt and green headband at the "draw" of the lacrosse game) is my daughter.

I only know it's called the draw because I asked her this evening. Otherwise I would have called it The Opening Move. Or The Kickoff. (Not that there's any kicking involved.) The rules of lacrosse are essentially lost on me, however one thing I do know is there's lots and lots and lots and lots of running involved. Unless you're the goalie. Then, all you have to worry about is the pressure of the entire game resting on your tiny shoulders. That's all.

She's in the throes of lacrosse season now and the team is doing very well. Saturday there's an all day tournament at Ware Academy where she'll play four games.

One game of lacrosse is enough to wear anyone out, but four? On a warm Saturday? A team of eighth graders? And a daughter who gives every game her all? I'm already declaring exhaustion and Game One has not yet been watched played.

My buttercup of a daughter is just about as incredible in lacrosse as she is in basketball.
Watching her play brings me a great deal of joy.
Her coach (in shorts) in the background played for William and Mary.

In other news pretty much unrelated to buttercups, my mother has written a post about the Chesapeake Bay Sisters, who convened over the weekend and laughed heartily at the latest misadventures of Baby and Middle Sister. (Click here for that post along with some very unfortunate photos that display some of the worst 1970s-era clothing that ever was.)

* Canon sent my beloved camera back last night. However, due to a crazy schedule I've not had a chance to test it out and won't until the weekend. But at least it's home where it belongs, and this makes me very happy.

Color

Field of buttercups on the way to Haven Beach

Thursday's weather was odd.

We awoke to tornado watches. Throughout the day, the wind whipped and disasters loomed clouds threatened.  After delivering children to their various destinations and before starting my work for the day, I decided to go for a jog down Haven Beach.

There I parked my car and trotted off down the gravel road that leads right into a well-known haunted woods away from the water directly into a wooded swamp.  My brief, two-mile jog included an unexpected upper body workout from swatting the first May flies* of the season. In addition to the physical struggle, there was also a very loud, very serious internal debate as to what on Earth would have compelled me to select a haunted, humid, insect-ridden woods on a stormy day as an ideal place to exercise.

With no acceptable answer to that question, I decided to salvage the trip by taking some pictures after my run from the flies was over.

These haven't been altered in any way and were all taken using the "auto" setting on the camera. There was a direct correlation between color (or lack thereof) and whether the camera was pointed east or west.

The field of buttercups (above) is on the left just before you turn down the long gravel lane which winds to Haven.

The foreboding shot above was taken from the parking lot.  The bay is tucked securely  in between that bed of sand and that great big wall of sky.

Yet, just behind me, towards the haunted swamp marsh, the grass was all happy and green, as if nothing ominous was going on at all.

This one below might be my favorite simply because of the ever so subtle hint of color in that upper right patch of sky.

It's sort of a melding of the vivid color that was behind me and the dreary drab that was in front of me. A sign of hope. Or perhaps a signal that life is not all darkness and drab, nor is it all vivid green and yellow buttercups.

It's a blending of the two.

Here's to a weekend with more green grass and buttercups than storm clouds and dive-bombing insects.

*A quick Google searched yielded no (!) results for the May fly of which I speak.  There is a "mayfly," evidently some gentle sort of insect who wouldn't dream of dive bombing an innocent jogger and who is kind to puppies and such, but that is not the May fly I'm talking about.  No, these are flies shaped like a stealth bomber, light brown, short-winged, fire-breathing-dragon sorts with teeth and jaws that snap quicker than an alligator. What they love more than biting, however, is flying kamikaze style around your head until you're so dizzy and out of breath from stomping and swatting you can't see straight, and anyone witnessing the encounter thinks you're having a conniption or a hissy fit. 

(That's because you are having a conniption or hissy fit.)

Buttercups and Beef Jerky

O.K. I confess. Buttercups can be beautiful and aren't just invasive weeds.

This sea of yellow is actually in Gloucester, a neighboring county through which we all must drive in order to get to any sort of civilization, namely a store that offers more than Cajun-Jalapeno-BBQ-Honey Mustard beef jerky.

And now I have one more confession: As much as I make fun of beef jerky, I actually like it and have been known to devour an entire bag in a matter of minutes.

When in Rome.......or Mathews...