Do-It-Yourself Scenic Overlook - Kansas-Style

 

I suppose I've always taken sunflowers for granted. As a Kansas native, these sunshiny flowers have become part of my peripheral vision as I motor down the road in the summer, usually in a hurry to get to where I'm going.

In our immediate area, they seem a little less plentiful as ditches have narrowed or been mowed. So as we were traveling down a more secluded dirt road in our Gator and I saw the blanket of sunflowers stretching toward the horizon, I wanted my chauffeur to stop. The national parks have scenic overlooks. I could do a make-your-own version, Kansas-style.

Summertime is sunflower time in Kansas. And even though our Iowa friends may believe it's a noxious weed, it's our noxious weed, thank you very much (with apologies to my son-in-law's Iowa family). The genus Helianthus comes from the Greek "helios" meaning "sun" and "anthos" meaning "flower." The species "annuus" means "annual."

The sunflower grows in every Kansas county due to its adaptability to soils from sand to clay and its toleration of dry to medium moist soils. In the summer and early fall, the yellow flowers give the prairies and roadsides a golden glow.

From the Kim's County Line archives

Sunflowers were cultivated in North America as far back as 3000 BC and were introduced to the rest of the world by Spanish Conquistadors in 1500. 

According to an article in The Hutchinson News by Steve Gilliland, in 1901, George Morehouse, a state senator from Council Grove, attended a rodeo in Colorado Springs where all the Kansas folks in attendance wore sunflowers identifying them as Kansans. Morehouse was so moved and inspired by the Kansas spirit, that upon returning home, he drafted the bill naming the sunflower as our state flower. It was adopted in 1903.

So, this year, it's especially appropriate to celebrate the sunflower, since it's the 120th anniversary of its status as official state flower. The 1903 proclamation said it was chosen for "its strong, distinct disk and its golden circle of clear, glowing rays."

In this original bill, Morehouse also stated:

 “This flower has to all Kansans an historical symbolism which speaks of frontier days, winding trails, pathless prairie and is full of the life and glory of the past, the pride of the present and richly emblematic of the majesty of the golden future, and is a flower which has given Kansas the world-wide name “The Sunflower State.”

I've transitioned to my sunflower decor in my living room. So I have sunflowers "blooming" all around me. 

The last several blog posts, I've reported on tourist spots in Iowa, Chicago and Missouri. We enjoyed those travels. But we are pretty fond of Kansas, too. 

 

Dueling Road Signs

Sometime in the past couple of days, a new road sign appeared at the corner south of our house. Cue up the "Dueling Banjos" song: It's been going in my head since I saw the contradictory mile markers at the corner.

According to the new Stafford County sign, I live on NE 150th Ave., just north of its intersection with NE  40th Street.

But Reno County put their signs up several years ago. For the longest time, I thought I'd been living  on South Salt Marsh Rd., just north of the intersection with West Illinois Ave.

I have a Sylvia phone, but a Stafford address. Sort of. I have a Reno County street address, but a Stafford zip code. Confused? Welcome to my world.

Let's hope the Reno County sign stays together. Randy and I noticed that there's yet another street name sandwiched between the Salt Marsh designation. If that front sign falls off, I guess I'll be living on Trails West Road ... just not really.

It's not the first time I've had to explain this anomaly. I live right on the Stafford/Reno County line, but our house is on the Reno County side. 

The latest explanation came when I voted early at the Reno County Courthouse prior to the primary election. When the election workers looked at my driver's license, they said, "You live in Stafford, but you can vote in Reno County?"

Yes. I can. Most of the time, I vote in Sylvia, and they are used to my mixed-up world. In all honesty, I'd prefer to exercise my patriotic duty in Stafford County because I'd rather vote on the school board elections where our kids and Randy went to school. I'd rather vote where we go to church, do our banking and other business. But, that's just life on the County Line.

The good news? With all these signs, I should be able to find my way home - at least for the moment. No telling what will happen if the signs all fall over. (I think I'd be OK. As a farmer's daughter and a farmer's wife, I've pretty much lived in the land of no street signs my whole life.)

(If you now have a hankering for Dueling Banjos, there are plenty of versions on YouTube. Click on the link to see Steve Martin and Kermit the Frog's version.)