This is the year of the sunflower, and the drought, and a few other things.
After last year’s bust of a sunflower crop, my husband, Radames, nurtured these beauties through woodchuck attacks and squirrel carnage. Today, he picked the last of this particular batch…big huge blooms that the chipmunks were munching away at…we will keep them on the table a few days and then put them outside, up high, for the birds.
In celebration of 19 years here, I thought I’d try a theme for a while: 19 years on the farm. I’ll let you know if it works out. My husband said to tell you this isn’t a farm, and it really isn’t. But it was a farm and it is a lot closer to a farm than my homeland, the suburbs. I like to say I live out in the middle of nowhere but then I am reminded that there is a Dunkin Donuts about 4 miles down the road.
It is September 18, 2016.
Sunflowers picked by Radames and photo-shopped by me.
This picture was originally taken in 2012, I think. It was a sunflower that just grew and grew. It may have been one that my husband let take root, even though it contrasted with his vision for that particular area of landscape.
Like many things in nature, it can be a metaphor for our lives. We reach a peak of growth and then as we decline, whenever that moment begins, we are laden with the ripeness of our time. When that seed spreads, it may flower, feed other life, or disappear. It is the nature of things.
To see this sunflower in its moment, its fullness, on the brink of decline and then to revisit it nearly four years later, is a bit of magic.