Plant

Organic Sunflower Seeds from Botanical Interests

Just imagine: for $1.99 (plus tax) you can hold a handful of summer potential in a slim packet of seeds. I’ve been dropping seeds into the earth since I was five, forever optimistic that what I planted would grow. And grow they did! Given the right amount of water and sun that slip of a seed knows to break through the earth, set roots below and then do what it does best: grow up and out as it morphs into leaves, branches, flowers and fruit. When the cycle is complete, that clever plant turns to seed so the process can begin anew.

Nothing epitomizes this cheerful process like sunflowers. Helianthus annuus are easy to grow and spectacular in size. A regular show-stopper along the garden path, they follow the sun throughout the day, then reset at night. Glorious flowers and abundant seeds attract wildlife as they reach skyward.

Once these cold spring days are behind us, I’ll tear open that packet and gently tuck each seed beneath the soil. All that promise in a packet of seeds.

Here’s what we’ll plant this year (descriptions from the seed packets):

Sunflower ‘Mammoth Russian‘ from Botanical Interests®

“Heirloom Towering in the garden, the tall plants produce a single, magnificent flower reaching 1 foot across. Ripe seeds attract birds and wildlife. Annual full sun, blooms summer to fall 6′ – 10′ fall”

Sunflower ‘Evening Sun‘ from Botanical Interests®

“Heirloom Fiery shades of vivid gold, autumn orange, warm mahogany and blazing bronze! A dazzling cut flower and enticing treat for birds. Annual full sun. Blooms summer to fall, 6′ – 8′ tall”

One of last year’s sunflowers: From Seed to Tower in an Hour

The default direction of the sunflower head is to point east towards sunrise: Helianthus: Flowers of the sun

"...Here's flowers for you: Hot lavender, mints, savory, and marjoram." The Winter's Tale

It’s a mystery. Two summers ago we planted a row of lavender along the front deck. Five small plants with big potential. Within a few months they would be peeking over the edge of the deck, covered in fragrant blooms.

The plants doubled in size, supporting each other as they grew out and up. They bumped up against the lawn; spilled on to the stairs. Except for one. One of the five plants was still below deck. Like the runt of the litter, I reasoned, the smaller plant needed more time.

My well-honed sense of symmetry was eschew; I wanted each of these plants to grow into one cohesive row. The plant seemed healthy. It branched, it flowered, and it grew. Every few days I would lean over the edge of the deck, lifting its branches skyward. Perhaps this lovely lavender had simply lost its way. “Stand tall,” I encouraged; that space is yours to fill.

I sought the advice of a couple of garden experts. One suggested it was something in the soil. I asked if it was possibly a dwarf variety but they didn’t think so. Nearly two years later the plant is still small.

I’m pragmatic when it’s time to pluck annuals from the earth and I can thin seeds and pull weeds with impunity. Giving up on an established perennial, however, feels like the gardener’s equivalent of throwing in the towel. If only the plant would send me a sign by turning brown, falling over or displaying a visible blight. Then I would be ready to let it go.