I love sunflowers, have always loved sunflowers, and seeing a big ole’ stand of them just makes me smile. Rio’s pasture is full of them right now. A couple of nights ago, I was dispatched over to my aunt’s to pick up pea salad she had made for Mom. I commented on the two very large sunflowers growing in her garden, and how pretty they were. She said the birds had “planted” those for her. I commented that I loved sunflowers and that they were beautiful, even if there by accident. She said my grandmother told her once to never put sunflowers on her grave. I laughed and said probably because she had to try to keep them out of the crops in the field. Aunt Gwen said,
“Yes; she said she spent her whole life hoeing sunflowers out of the crops, and she did not want them on top of her grave.”
I suppose that would give one a different point of view–having walked down those long rows of cotton and wheat in the hot Texas sun, shielded only by a bonnet and trying to keep the sunflowers from sucking up all the moisture and nutrients from the crops that you needed just to survive another year.
I might never look at another sunflower without now thinking of Mama Rogers. While I promise not to ever put them on her grave, I have been wanting to clip a few and bring them in to the breezeway so I can see their sunny yellow faces.