JOY ALONG THE WAY: LET'S PLAN SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT ALL

With all the sunflower seeds the birds and squirrels eat and scatter around here, I suppose it should not be surprising that a seed should land in one of my hanging flowerpots, take root and try for a belated life of its own. I saw the little seedling pushing through the soil and thought from the very beginning it was a sunflower. You know, the sandpapery leaves.

Being reluctant to pull up anything that has so asserted itself without benefit of sowing and especially in a flowerpot already occupied by petunias, I let it be.

As the days passed and the plant shot upward I became excited about what an unorthodox flowerpot I would have -- pink and lavender petunias with a sunflower rearing up above like a gay, yellow parasol. Not in the center was the sunflower but to one side, cocky, ignoring any laws of symmetry or balance.

Each day I watched it grow. Up, up, up. I thought it might, despite the meager amount of soil it could claim, reach the peak of the garage because it had started on near level with the eaves.

I wondered if there may be any upcoming flower show scheduled and what inspectors or graders of my petunia-sunflower pot would do. Would they have any such categories as Odd, Unusual, Ridiculous?

I even added some Miracle-Gro to the soil to urge the sunflower on even though I'd heard whispers of coming frost. But the sunflower stopped to bloom just after it had peaked through the slatted arch of the lattice-way from which the pot hung. I gave up the idea of entering it in any sort of competition. It tickles me, though, every time when I pass by it. Made me even think of planting a single sunflower seed in a pot next spring where it would have all the soil to itself. No, not just one. A potted sunflower hanging eaves level from each side of my garage roof! The hex sign would probably fall off in chagrin, wondering what had come over the mistress of the premises.

Such nonsense! Let me come down to earth where sunflower seeds should be sown. Next spring, of course.

I'm dealing on a sane level now, sowing seeds that need to be sown in the fall, especially larkspur. I once had a little garden patch of larkspur and remember it so lovingly -- yellow and black bumblebees in the blue larkspur, yellow and black goldfinch flying around. I'm going to try to repeat it. The only thing I can't depend on are those yellow and black goldfinch. Some seasons they come, some they don't. But I can count on the house finches and they are pretty too.

According to the picture on the Larkspur seed packet, I'll have beautiful dark blue, light blue, rosy pink, light pink, light and dark lavender blossoms. So I suppose any old colored bee or bird will do -- hornets, sweat bees, bumblebees, honey bees, grackles, sparrows or, fond hope, a western painted bunting.

Come see my larkspur garden next spring and we'll discuss the color of the ink on the seed packet and the actual color my posies turn out to be. You might even ask, "What's that sunflower doing in the center?" Because if one grows there, I'll let it be.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.