sunflowers, memories, and the battle for our front yard
When I see my wife, belly round with our first grandchild, tending to her sunflowers, I’m swept back to my own childhood. My mother, hands always stained with soil, taught me the old ways—planting by the moon, saving seeds from the tallest blooms. Back then, every neighbor had a patch of sunflowers nodding in the summer breeze, their faces tracking the sun like loyal friends.
But things have changed in our neighborhood. Some folks say wild, towering sunflowers look messy, not fitting the manicured lawns our HOA demands. They want neat, uniform flowerbeds—no room for the wild joy of a sunflower stretching ten feet high. My wife, though, insists on growing them anyway. She says our grandchild should know the magic of watching a seed become a giant, golden bloom.
Last week, a neighbor left a note: “Please keep your sunflowers trimmed. They’re blocking the view.” I felt torn. Should we follow the new rules, or honor the traditions passed down through generations? Sunflowers thrive in our hot, dry summers, needing little water and offering seeds for birds and people alike. But is that enough to justify breaking the rules?
I walk outside in the golden evening light, the sunflowers casting long shadows across the yard. I remember my mother’s laughter, the pride in her eyes when her sunflowers outgrew the fence. Now, I see that same pride in my wife. Maybe it’s time to talk with the neighbors—share seeds, share stories, and maybe, just maybe, bridge the gap between old and new.
#sunflowers #familytradition #communitydebate #Gardening
