Around this time two years ago, I wrote about the sunflowers that were unexpectedly appearing throughout our back yard.  They were planted not by me, but by squirrels.  We shouldn’t have been surprised at the flowers’ emergence.  We’d been watching our squirrel friends as they chose a single a sunflower seed from below the bird feeders, carefully placed it in the ground (usually on the lawn, to my husband’s dismay) and covered it with soil.  They’d pat down the earth thoroughly with their delicate hands, hop back for another seed and repeat the process.  

Evidently squirrels can be as forgetful as humans, because we have a sunflower garden now.

This summer, the squirrel-farmed yield is particularly plentiful.

Some  lowers are larger than ever.  They stare at me, eye to eye, high atop perches on  thick, prickly robust stalks.   

As I observed in my earlier post, the sunflower is among nature’s  artful miracles of geometry.   A sunflower head is, in fact, a compact colony of tiny flowers.  What appear to be petals are individual flowers known as ray florets.  Their bright yellow color attracts pollinators to the numerous minuscule disc florets of  the center.   Our sunflower garden teems with bees and butterflies.  The  disc florets begin opening around the flower’s outer rim, so that the amazing inner spiral is eventually surrounded by a shaggy, deep golden fringe.  Each one of these florets is a perfect, five-lobed tubular bloom, rather like a lily, sized for a fairy. They will, in time, grow into seeds.  

The individual florets that make up the center are visible in the two photos above.  

I love the way the petal-like ray florets unfold in sections to reveal the sunflower’s round center, as in the photos below.  I’m reminded of a winking eye, or a child playfully peeking through her hands.  

As the flowers age, the disc florets are transformed into seeds, and the ray florets wither.  Once they pass their prime, they attract seed-loving birds, especially similarly colored goldfinches.  The elderly flowers below may lack their youthful loveliness, but they continue to fulfill their purpose.    

If I pause for a moment to survey our squirrel-planted sunflower garden, with flowers at varying points in their life cycles, I can sense that elusive but perpetual presence of the sacred.  It’s evident as the big flowers turn their heads to follow the sun.  I’m reminded that God’s creation is ongoing.  It’s happening all around us, despite the toxic fog of human meanness that we allow to cloud our world.  I can hear the sunflower offering valuable advice:  Follow the light, be a beacon to those who need you, and live abundantly, at every stage along the journey!