It was the year it rained so much the tomato plants fell over, so heavy with green and pink and red fruit, and the soil so soft; the summer the lightning flashes were like strobes on a dance floor in a movie from the seventies, Warhol peeking around the corner and Bianca on a horse, while thunder rattled the glass in the windows. It was the year it was 111, and then got hotter.
Jackson, Mississippi, Polaroid 600 (all photos Summer 2023)
On the morning of the Fourth I read the Declaration aloud, almost forgetting to do the names of the signers (George Washington was traveling that day, so he didn’t sign, I just learned that), sweating gently in the backyard even though the sun wasn’t yet over the trees. I haphazardly built a pile of brush in the back, where the bamboo had been. The branches from the oak, pine, and magnolia that had fallen in the last storm were already so dry they caught immediately, and the fire was soon so hot you couldn’t walk within six feet.
Tomatoes from the garden, Polaroid SX-70
I kept trying to get this one tomato pie recipe down. The Arkansas travelers were perfect to layer into a shell, but I first made one crust too thickly, then the next too thin. I put in so much basil that it tasted almost like a pizza. Finally learned not just how to pollinate squash, but when to pick it, even though the dark golden color it turned was so beautiful, even if it meant the rind was now hard as wood, the guts full of seeds. You could whomp somebody over the head with one, like a monobrowed goon with a blackjack in an old noir.
Yazoo City, Polaroid SX-70
I went to the movies a whole bunch but it was mostly superheroes and pulp and they weren’t any fun, which is missing the point, and just because something is in slow motion with a rock song playing doesn’t mean it’s cool or dramatic. But after I left Asteroid City the world seemed to have a new glow about it, and I wanted to tell everyone that I saw that they had beauty in them.
Forest, Mississippi, Polaroid SX-70
The power was off for days and it was quiet all through the neighborhood, so hot not even the dogs were barking. I bought a solar charger at Harbor Freight for fifty bucks and it really worked, but at a leisurely pace. I wrote down the progress:
10:15 a.m.: 31%
11:15: 45%
11:45: 56%
12:07: 63%
12:32: 66%
After that though I quit charging because I wanted to use the phone and having it over 60% seemed fine. Then I quit pretending to be self-sufficient off the land and just got in the car and drove around so I could get some AC.
Meridian, Mississippi
Okay there’s some other great photos I want to show you but I’m going to go put on a Sam Cooke record and take another try at this pie crust, then go pick some basil and okra from the backyard. Forgive me if I just tend to wander off, it’s that time of year.
“MELT” is this week’s installment of GORJUS, an occasional dispatch devoted to art and life in the South, preserved as best I can with instant film.
If you liked what you saw and read, if you maybe felt a twang in your belly while you looked it over, then I am proud of it, and I reckon we would be friends. Consider sending this letter to a pal who is like us. I’m gorjusjxn on Instagram, and you can see more Polaroids at McCartyPolaroids.
A few weeks ago I wrote about my Nana and her brother, that’s what I’m really about, if you haven’t read it I think it is worth your time.
Yes do read about David’s nana and her brother!