During garden inspection this morning, when I check for zucchinis that exploded in the night and toss the spent hibiscus blooms, I looked up and found a green umbrella over me. It was a mammoth sunflower in the middle of the garden. It must be 10 feet tall.
Hasn't bloomed yet, but several smaller varieties have. Can't recall their names now - the seed packs are carefully stored in an envelope which is carefully stored somewhere ... but they're lemony yellow and this morning were literally smothered in bumble bees. Moments like these are very humbling. I am still awe-struck watching bees at work.
Sunflowers are a favorite (the list is long, I know) and I love photographing them. They look good from any angle at any time of day. Not like the rest of us ...
They never fail to make our burdens lighter, perhaps because their bloom seems so much like a smiling human face. This morning I put my hand around the stalk. It was very straight and surprisingly sturdy.
Then I remembered last fall. After the sunflowers finished their show, the birds went to work cleaning each flower head of every seed. It was so much fun to watch. Then the sunflower stalks turned brown and flopped over and soon it was time to pull them out and let them make compost.
But it took some doing, getting them out. By the end of the season, these mammoths were trees. We dug and pulled and finally they came out, a time that's often sad for gardeners. But these guys are so joyful, and useful. Every season of their existence they add something positive to the landscape and to all the creatures that inhabit it.
I got a little carried away with photos, but perhaps, after looking at them, you'll feel you were standing in my garden with me this morning, chatting away and marveling with me at these North American natives.
Treasures.
