No Sunflowers Were Harmed in the Making of This Blog

Sunflowers, August 2014

Sunflowers, July 2016

We don't raise sunflowers. And if I knew who owns the sunflowers in the field just west of Memorial Park Cemetery on Rayl's Hill west of Hutchinson, I would have asked for permission. Really I would have.

July 18, 2016

But to the landowner and/or farmer: I promise no sunflowers were harmed in the making of these photos or this blog. I carefully weaved my way through the rows and disturbed nary a one. My going-to-town shoes likely had more damage than the plants.

 

While visiting the sunflower field, I also drove past a sign at the cemetery which said that trespassers weren't allowed. Technically, I was probably trespassing, since I parked at the cemetery to walk past the gravestones of the dead and into a field filled with life-pulsing yellow. But I promise I was respectful to the cemetery and its grounds, too.

I drove by the field once before I stopped. I am - by nature and design - a first-born rule follower.

However, in the end, I stopped a couple of different times. So, yes, call me a trespasser and rebel - at least when it comes to sunflower photos.

The first time I stopped, the sunflowers were newly bloomed, and the petals fresh and unscathed. But the sky was less interesting. Still, I liked finding this fiercely "independent" sunflower - facing a direction different from the majority.

July 18, 2016

I stopped again the next week when white clouds dotted a blue sky, and the yellow sunflower faces rivaled the brightness of the sun. 

July 25, 2016

Some people - and some sunflowers - just stand head and shoulders above the crowd.

I had another opportunity to stop, just as the sun was setting last Friday. Since it rained, Randy and I went to Hutchinson for a movie and dinner. As we left the restaurant, I knew the sunset was going to be spectacular.

 

By the time we drove out of town and got to Rayl's Hill, the timing was a little past the prime. And the sunflowers are definitely starting to fade, too. Later, I wished I'd moved farther down the cemetery road so I could have avoided the power lines in the photos. (Hindsight is 20-20. I was just trying to capture the light at that point.)

But, just like a bee drinking in the nectar, I was glad to drink in the beauty of a beautiful Kansas sunset, where the sunflowers seemed to capture a hint of the fading sun, too.

A Time to Think

Every happening, great and small, is a parable
whereby God speaks to us,
and the art of life is to get the message.
 –Malcolm Muggeridge, journalist
(from an email devotional from Guideposts)