About 50 years ago my then husband and I planted sunflowers in our front garden.
We talked to them. We watered and nurtured them.
They grew up to our bedroom window and greeted us each morning; though it was their rear view we saw.
Most neighbours loved them but we heard scathing comments from non-gardeners. I never understood that.
Today I don't grow them in my tiny Eastney garden but I have a favourite sitting area and have written about them.
They’ve found their way into my heart again and into a fairy story. I love how the golden yellow saucers follow the sun.
The young fairy in my story is forced to dry out an angry old bedraggled fairy on a sunflower head with amazing results. The healing energy of plants runs deep and sunflowers have their own open-hearted joy.