Day 355: The first storm of the season has not come in with quite the flourish the forecast warned us to expect, and although it's blown the tomato screens flat a couple of times, this sunflower...rainflower...remains undaunted. It's a "volunteer," a seed thrown into the garden by a Jay or a Towhee, the careless eaters of my avian dinner guests, and possibly close enough to the house to escape Bambi's predations. Sunflowers never survive to maturity here, not with deer and elk bold enough to walk right up to my doorstep. I gave up trying to grow them years ago, but the birds have been discouraged from their horticulture not a whit. They plant with no expectations of a harvest, in contrast to my agrarian motives, leaving me to wonder if there isn't more wisdom in those little brains than in my own.
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