Everything I Know About Life I Learned From a Sunflower. Well, maybe not
everything, but there's a lot to be learned from these glorious creatures of summertime beauty.
Last
Photo Friday, I talked about
resilience and only moments after publishing the post came the straw that broke the rather forgetful proverbial camel's back. Our apartment complex is under new management and although we've been here for five years and under this particular company for several months, there have been a lot of shifts overhead and the current administration had a new policy about yards and gardens: plants in the front, toys in the back. This would have a great impact on my
play garden setup and while I obediently hauled my plants up front and all of our mud kitchen, toys, observation stations and accessories out back, I was feeling incredibly stuck in disappointment. Why was I so attached to our yards being as they were? It's not like they were telling me I couldn't have the stuff at all or forcing us to get rid of it. It just needed to be rearranged. But perhaps designing our play space involved more for me than only creating a space for my children to explore and grow. Perhaps it was a creative reflection also of how I have explored and grown over these years of being a play at home mom. It was almost Shabbos, I was tired and hot (we were having over 90 degree temperatures) and the grand haul of stuff was done. But by the time we finally got to bed, I was still so sad about it I actually cried. Maybe I cried about the loss of my play garden or maybe it was also because I was hot and tired and had a cold and it had been a long day, a long week, a long month or two. And maybe resilience isn't the absence of feeling sad or defeated, but rather what you do in the face of sadness and defeat.
The next day was equally hot and long, but it was Shabbos. A day at home with family. And do you know what? The boys
loved the new setup. They love having the mud kitchen and the sandbox and toys for digging and building and collecting and exploring and observing and recording and riding and watering all in one space. The grown ups kind of like it, too. And the plants mostly being in one place (our raised bed is still in the back growing pizza toppings!) makes that watering job a little easier, too. Sometimes a change of perspective also goes a long way. And meanwhile, in the front yard, a second bloom had opened on the one sunflower I
didn't plant. I don't actually know how it got there, but there it grows, either with the help of my junior gardeners, a critter or the wind.
Plants are amazing! This one stalk has two flowers blooming in two different colors! And meanwhile, in the back where I
did plant sunflowers, all three survivors stand [mostly] tall (aside from the one that sprouted behind where the mud kitchen
used to be, grew across the ground behind the other two to claim its own space in the sun, albeit several feet below its brethren). Even the mammoth stalk that had toppled from the winds of the storm just nights before was standing tall again, supported by a stake and some twine and once again facing the sun.
So what can we learn from sunflowers?
Stand Tall and Carry a Big Stalk: It doesn't matter if someone planted you on purpose or not. It doesn't matter if you're the tallest of the bunch or if you needed to find your own space and time to reach for the sky. Take up space because you deserve to be here.
Laws of Attraction: Sunflowers have an incredible ability to face the sun. Even after the wind and rain and being bent and nearly broken. Even after sprouting in the dark with no room to bloom. They find their space and they turn their face to the sun. If they didn't, they wouldn't survive. Turn your face to what it is you need to thrive. And even if you find yourself in the dark or bent or a little bit broken, find the strength to look up and survive.
Life Will Bend You, But Don't Let It Break You: The pressure of the rain, a burst of hail, a sudden gust of wind, an unexpected set of toddler feet or maybe even the weight of your own massive growth might bend you, but you needn't let it break you. Allow yourself to bend and move with it, not against it. Life is heavy but don't let it weigh you down.
Have a Cheerful, Sunny Disposition: Everybody loves a sunflower. The bees do. The birds do. The aphids do. The butterflies do. The people do. Have a cheerful, sunny disposition and you simply can't go wrong.
There Might Be Giants: Sunflowers come in all shades and sizes. I love them all. Tall, giant, red, gold, yellow, bent, crooked. I always plant a few of the mammoth variety because there is something quite whimsical about gazing up at a flower taller than I am (and no, that doesn't take much), but that cheerful, sunny disposition comes in all sizes, shapes and colors. They are equally lovable and so, too, are we equally lovable in all sizes, shapes and colors.
Give Back a Thousandfold: Two years ago I spent $3 on a pack of mammoth sunflower seeds. Maybe there were 25 seeds in that pack. I got two mammoth flowers last year and thousands of seeds to feed the critters that graced our garden, to pluck and explore with S and Y, to dry and save for the long winter, to share and spread this spring and plant and grow this summer. You may start off from very little in life and grow in a modest space but don't let that stop you from giving back a thousandfold. There is nothing like the level of gratitude a single flower expresses in the gift of sharing thousands of seeds. Perhaps it is that gratitude that allows it to stand tall and carry a big stalk, to face the light in the midst of darkness, to maintain its grounding against the rage of the storm, to keep smiling and shining and growing.
Life is full of lessons you asked to learn and some you didn't plan to. I love when they are learned in the garden, even if that involves begrudgingly hauling bits and pieces across the lawn and through a mud-strewn living room in temperatures above 90 degrees with a cold because sometimes you have to tear down to rebuild. A sunflower's final gift is given to the earth and to curious little hands and to hungry little mouths only at the very end of its blooming. Just as it begins to shed its petals and droop its heavy head and wither and brown, hundreds and thousands of life-bearing seeds are emptied from the flower's center. Some for snacking. Some for saving. Some for sharing. Some for planting. Some for growing and starting again and the cycle continues on.
Happy Friday! And, as always, happy playing!
There is something so wondrous about standing below a giant flower and looking up at a leaf that is bigger than my head. There is something so amazing about a flower opening up after months of waiting and watching. It lasts comparatively as long as the blink of an eye. The center of the sunflower houses hundreds of tiny little flowers and behind those, hundreds of tiny little seeds--that given the best of circumstances and luck will perhaps one day bloom into another jolly giant of the garden. But until then, we have these early days of August. A wistful and whimsical time. The garden is in harvest. The sun is still hot and it's the peak of summer. But mornings and nights begin to cool a bit. School supply lists are arriving and Fall is around the corner. So we savor the sunlight just a little bit longer and play just a little bit harder to squeeze every last drop out of these summer days at home. And the garden follows us wherever we go. In the front yard, out the back door to the back yard. In the kitchen, in the playroom, in the mud caked on to our garden clogs. This is summer! And admittedly, the play residue is all around us. Cleaning up is maybe not the first priority with all three Sprout Scouts at home with me each day. But it starts to look almost like a work of art after a while, reminding me that we were here. We played until we were carried in like footballs, screaming and kicking and covered in mud and sand and who knows what else, because no matter how many nights we've done it, bedtime is always a surprise...
