That about covers it . . .

It has been hot in Alabama for weeks now. We slow down by necessity. It is just too hot to move quickly. Maybe that is why we speak with such a slow drawl. It is just too much effort to let go of the words and force them from our lips.

But as the heat of summer slows most everything down, there is one thing that comes to life and moves with alarming speed.

Kudzu.

Anyone who lives in the south or travels on the highways through the south in the summer is familiar with the deep green vine that seems to run continuously from the Mason-Dixon line to the Gulf of Mexico. Kudzu, a native of southeast Asia, was introduced to the Southern U.S.A. as a means of soil erosion prevention and enhancement in the first half of the twentieth century. Millions of seedlings were distributed to Alabama farmers who were paid by the government to plant the vines on their soil-worn acreage, depleted from too many years of cotton. I am sure they would give the money back if the kudzu would leave.

Kudzu liked it here. As we all know it wore out its welcome quickly. But it was too late. Kudzu had found a home.

As a kid I liked kudzu. First, if kudzu was around that meant it was summer, and school was out. As it grew and covered trees and shrubs it created tunnels and chambers for exploring and hiding out and whatever mischief might come therefrom. And in late July and early August the blooms would come out. Deep purple blossoms that smell just like Grape Kool-Aid. It grew so fast that when playing hide and seek it wasn't necessary to run and hide. You could just crouch down at the edge of the yard by the kudzu patch, and by the time fifty Mississippi's were counted, the Kudzu would have covered you up. Of course young parents had to watch the toddlers at play in the yard lest they be lost to the quickly creeping vine. At night, after the sun was down but before it got dark one could see all manner of things in the silhouette of the kudzu covered trees . . . dinosaurs, elephants, Bear Bryant.

Although Kudzu is considered a nuisance to adult landowners, if one can forget that prejudice for a moment, it creates a beautiful landscape, a lush green carpet that rolls with the contour of the ground and whatever else it covers.

But that was also a problem. You can't really tell what is under the kudzu. Sometimes, if a baseball was hit into the kudzu, you obviously had to go in after it or be called a sissy. The top of the kudzu was beautiful, as I just said, but who knew what was under it, other than the lost baseball. I always figured it was the perfect environment for rattlesnakes and copperheads. And it was. But you just couldn't see them from the top. You had to stick your hand down under there and feel around. Or sometimes it covered junk. Old forgotten parts of tractors, bikes, cars or metal tubs, or remnants of an old burn barrel, jagged tin cans and broken jars and bottles, and big rocks, rotten logs, or deep holes. Any foot speed that I ever had is partially due to stepping through the kudzu as quickly as I could and getting out.

But it looked so nice and cool on the top. So smooth and beautiful and it smelled so good. Grape Kool-Aid after all.

A beautiful, sweet smelling surface covering a world of ugliness, foul-air, snakes and dangerous traps.

Kudzu. It's right at home.

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