Charlotte Spring

While running an errand today, took some pix of spring in Charlotte.

First is the garden of "Mr. Grier," as he is known to his neighbors. Right in the middle of a pricey part of south Charlotte (near Sardis Rd. and Hwy 51 intersection), the elderly Mr. Grier runs his market garden every year, selling to the neighbors. He loads up his mobile produce stand with veggies 3-4 days a week and people pay by the honor system. In July and August, this garden will produce unbelievable amounts of vegetables. Even though he doesn't grow organically, I think he is careful about what he puts on the plants.

This is just a portion of the "wall-'o-waters" he sets out to protect his tomato and pepper plants until the threat of frost is past.



You can see the tomato plants beginning to peak out the top. The plastic devices are filled with water that is heated by the sun during the day, the hot water then giving off warmth for the plants during the night.



His huge onions beginning to form flower/seed heads:

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His gigantic compost piles behind his home (you can see the produce stand that he loads up and pulls up near the street with his tractor):



The city of Matthews, a small historic town on Charlotte's south side, is offering a community garden to its residents. They took the lead -- plowed up the land, delivered mulch and plowed it in, ran a water line to the site, etc. Plots (about 30' x 30' each) are available to residents for $10 per growing season. This is an amazing provision by the Matthews town government. It's not an organic or sustainable movement per se, though individual growers could certainly employ organic methods on their plot. Way to go, Matthews!



It wouldn't be spring in the south without climbing wisteria vines -- these making it to the top of these 40' tall pines.





Every time I see wisteria in the south I think of the amazing song by the southern writer/singer Kate Campbell, who knows the south -- its good and its bad -- as well as anyone I've ever read or heard. In her song, "Petrified House," (on her 2003 Monuments CD) she tells the story of an old southern woman, seemingly wealthy and prominent in a prior day, stuck in the past, refusing to acknowledge that the days of Dixie are done. The chorus says,

She believes somehow that nothing has changed
Even though Sherman left Georgia in flames
Cotton's still king and the south didn't fall
As long as wisteria climbs up the wall.

That verse reminds me of my grandmother Gan, who lived and died in south Alabama, who loved Robert E. Lee and the Confederate flag as much as life itself. Somewhere I have an 8 x 10 picture of her standing in her back yard beside an ancient tree long since conquered by purple wisteria -- just like the vines in the picture above.

Everybody has a "wisteria" of one sort or another -- something that reminds them of the way life used to be. As long as our wisteria appears on schedule, we can deny that things have changed; we can refuse to move on with life. Kate Campbell's song reminds me every year, when the wisteria blooms, of the dangers of living in denial of the way life really is.

Whoa!

I hate to do two Idol posts in a row, but I was amazed at how they closed the big three-hour "Idol Gives Back" segment tonight: with a full-blown version of Darlene Zschech's song, "Shout to the Lord." The eight finalists, plus a robed gospel choir, sang it beautifully -- and with all the original words as far as I could tell, except for the biggest NO-NO of them all: "Jesus." Instead of the opening line being "My Jesus, my Savior . . ." they sang "My Shepherd, my Savior." Still, it's more than I would have expected from network TV:

Somewhere . . .

I missed Idol last night, but in reading the post-show reviews today decided all I really missed was Jason Castro and David Archuleta. I have watched Jason's rendition of the late Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's hit at least 10 times -- it was that good.

I remember exactly where I was the first time I heard Kamakawiwo'ole's medley of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World." I almost had to stop the car. It was sometime in late 1996, early 1997. I was being divorced by my wife, trying to get a new vocation started, and holding on to a divine thread for stability. I was blown away by the most sonorous voice I had ever heard, accompanied by nothing but an artfully-strummed ukulele. As soon as I got back to my computer I started searching a meager (relatively so, at that time) Internet and found a California deejay who replied to my query and told me about Israel Kamakawiwo'ole -- the young 700-pound Hawaiian who I heard on the radio.

Maybe the emotional time in which I first heard the song is what pegged its place in my psyche, but it has never left. Even at the end of the (pretty lame) Meet Joe Black movie, when the credits started rolling after an emotional ending scene, the tears flowed again when Israel's song began to play. The opening chords on his ukulele are so memorable that hearing them is like lighting a fuse. Everyone who has ever dreamed a distant dream (i.e., everyone) who hears this song is torn between dreams that have died and those that still have a chance.

All that to say, when I discovered today that Jason Castro did Israel's hit song, the rush started again. He did it beautifully (watch the timer for the move he makes around 1:15). The most interesting thing about this performance is the POV shot by the camera from the back of the stage out toward the audience: Not a person was moving. The teenage windmills in the mosh pit had their arms locked by their sides during the entire song instead of doing their normal wheat-waving-in-the-wind routine. You could have heard a pin drop in the theatre through the entire song. Anybody who watches Idol regularly knows this never happens:



Israel Kamakwiwo'ole was a national treasure in Hawaii. Unfortunately, he died early at age 38, perhaps due to his massive girth, in June, 1997, just a year or so after I first heard his song. He was only the third person in Hawaii's history to have lain in state in the rotunda of the state capitol when he died. It's probably a sad irony that what gave Israel's music such life is what probably took his life in the end. His massive reverb chamber, aka his diaphragm, succumbed to respiratory disease, but not before it gave birth to a richness of sound yet to be duplicated or equaled by others.

Here's a tribute video produced after he died with his Somewhere . . . Wonderful Life medley as the soundtrack:




I confess to being a captive of music -- especially the emotional kind; the kind with stories behind them. I don't know if my English maternal grandfather, Lewis Blackburn Draper, who I know only by story and picture, will be in heaven or not. But if he is, I want to meet him and see if his stage and singing career is why I watch Idol and music concert DVDs. I'm not unique in being a music-wannabe -- and though I missed that opportunity in my own life I can still take great pleasure in those coming along who are greatly gifted.

(As long as you're here, you might enjoy David Archuleta's performance from last night as well. To be only 17 years old, this kid is something special. I don't know this song -- apparently it was a hit outside the U.S.):