I don't really have much of a reason for putting this up except I suppose I miss the ideals that planting sunflowers along a road encompass. It was a difficult decision, I am sure. Weighing whether the introduction of the plants would cause an imbalance in the local ecosystem (would impurities in the soil mean that a poisoned food source for birds was created?). I heard somewhere that sunflower seeds from a packet (you know, the ones you buy for a dollar at the drug store) have been genetically altered making their seeds sterile meaning the possibility of plant proliferation along the lakeside and into Wendy Park didn't seem much of an issue. The only suspected danger was the ground keepers scythe, of which no bother was needed.
It was too late in the year when these seeds were sowed for the "Mammoth Sunflowers" to attain their advertised height, a grandiose 15' that would have easily been spied from the Shoreway on those quiet commutes home in the evening, the sun setting the sky on fire as it sinks into the lake. Regardless they were planted on the sly. An act of subversion that would hopefully blossom into beauty. It would become a joke, to see the flowers and say to myself "I know who did that" when really, the humans responsible could truthfully hardly take any credit. They poked some holes in the dirt, shoved a ripe striped seed in the hole, hastily covered it over and moved onto to the next planting, mindful of passing traffic and prying eyes. Nature just ran its course and the plants grew. They may have been located there by humans (and cultivated and packaged as seeds) but honestly it would be akin to a museum curator taking credit for the pieces on the walls of the museum, this ownership the passing agrarians had.
Regardless, it was a topic of discussion, this planting of the sunflowers. An act of design (some would say attrition) to beautify the gray city on the gray lake. Larger plans were made, sites were scouted, ideas of hidden messages tossed aside as quickly as derived. Why not plant a food garden on Scranton Peninsula? Most likely the toxins in the soil would deter any use of that. How about a garden billboard on a hillside? Too quickly overgrown with brush and weeds. Our poor plants would be choked out in days. How about large sunflowers on a freshly finished roadside protected by a fence and curb? Perfect.
And so the season wound down. Like most Cleveland dreams the sunflowers never achieved the proportions they aspired to. They grew what they could (perhaps it was too dry, perhaps the soils had too much clay) and eventually succumbed to the fauna and the seasons. I am sure the last flurries have buried the trunks of the plants. Another ideal quickly and completely covered by lake effect snow.
Perhaps next year the sunflowers will be planted earlier in the season. Perhaps they will spring up in a few more locations, waving in the wind at passersby (aren't Clevelanders constantly being reminded how friendly we are, how we smile at everyone?) and watching the world pass them by. Maybe next year they will grow big and strong, a quiet marvel to behold, planted from heirloom seeds that will survive the seasons, spreading themselves to become native, passed on by birds and squirrels, eventually becoming strong enough to then survive on their own.
Then a new flower will have to be cultivated. Another annual that would embody the trials of my city. Another example of struggle, hope and failure to study and watch, to shrug our shoulders at and wonder who would attempt such as thing in such a locale anyway.
