A ray of sunshine: Giant Sunflowers contest lifts the drizzle of gloom
Looking at the photos accompanying today's column, it's not hard to guess what the subject matter is. But what I also hope you notice about the photos — other than the Giant Sunflowers — is that the people standing by these colossal plants all look happy.
As I have written in past years, growing Giant Vegetables does that.
Howard Dill, a Canadian farmer who has been listed in the Guinness Book of World Records for his pumpkins that crash in at 700-plus pounds, once explained to me, "There is something about the giant pumpkin that makes people happy. And the bigger the pumpkin, the happier they are."
How much simpler an explanation do you want? And it's just as true for Giant Sunflowers. All they want is some good dirt, a little fertilizer, regular watering and over the summer, that half-inch seed will mature into a botanical colossus.
For all kinds of reasons, we're looking ahead to a dreary few months. We're used to the gray, rainy Pacific Northwest fall and winter, but the pounding of breaking news, whether about war or layoffs, is a constant drizzle of gloom.
So I thought this would be a good time to print the results of this year's Giant Sunflower Contest. I announced it back in May, in a few paragraphs at the end of a letters-from-readers column. The deal was that if you grew the plants and sent me a picture, I'd send you a packet of seeds.
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Ohh, the stories you told me about My Summer with The Giant Sunflowers. And, yeah, I know this is all Saturday Evening Post kind of stuff (if you're under 50, have somebody explain what I mean). So what. Let's put the breaking news on hold for a few minutes.
I mean, I'm looking at the series of pictures that George Steigleder of Renton sent me. In each photo, he's holding his baby grandson, Jared. Photo No. 1 shows grandpa (big grin) and grandson ("Hey, what's going on?") by the sunflower seedlings. Over the weeks, the plants just keep getting bigger and bigger, as does George's grin at this astounding feat of nature, until one of the plants reaches 10 feet. Now Grandpa is standing on a ladder for the photo opportunity, holding the still-baffled Jared.
But in the year 2020, Jared can put up these photos in his college dorm: He and Grandpa and the Giant Sunflowers. I know it'll be one of his most valued possessions.
Re'nee Bond and some other HUD employees stationed at the old Federal Office Building in downtown Seattle refer to their digs as "The Outer Limits." So how do you brighten up a cheerless old office? They decided to grow the sunflower indoors. The plant didn't disappoint them, as the office workers watered and tended it. "It may not be the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen," Bond said, "the stalk is spindly and the leaves sparse." But it grew to 8 feet, past a false ceiling. Years from now, they'll still talk about the summer they grew a sunflower indoors.
Bloomless fun
If you grow a Giant Sunflower, you can't help but notice it when you come home from work. This mass of greenery takes you away from the office stresses. Shawn Marie Abernethy, of Seattle, kept wondering why her Giant Sunflowers grew to giant size, but wouldn't bloom. "At this rate, they will bloom in December. Is that possible?" she said.
But despite not flowering, Abernethy's sunflowers provided her with something else: One of the giant stalks has become the home to 50 or so crickets. "These green insects lay so peacefully blending in with the stalk, and when you move the sunflower the crickets buzz around before settling back, providing much amusement to cats and small children," she said. What better stress-reliever?
A real horse pleaser
You found out that it isn't just humans who like sunflowers.
J. Ward Phillips of Freeland had two prize 10-footers growing on his Whidbey Island property. One plant was in the horse pasture, loving the manure pile in which it had been planted. Phillips was ready to take a picture when he noticed the plant had disappeared. It had been eaten. "I never thought the horses would like a sunflower," he said.
Jackie Junso of Renton told me about the battles she had with squirrels that were eating the seeds on her 11-foot-tall plant. "I saw the plant shaking, looked up and there was a gray squirrel just tearing and ripping away at that beautiful sunflower! I let out a war hoop. The squirrel went straight up in the air, fell and ran for his life." But the squirrel returned, and the escalating battle included wrapping the sunflowers in cheesecloth, then turning to heavy plastic sheeting, and, rather unpolitically correct, shooting at the squirrel with a paintball gun. The squirrel was unharmed except for pink paint on its belly. Finally, Junso bought four yards of wire screening and wrapped the plants. The squirrel decided to go find easier pickings.
Slimy enemies
If Shelly Pountain of Everett hadn't planted the sunflowers, decades from now she wouldn't have the memory of how her two little children protected the plants. She'll remember her children; Emma, 5, and Ryan, 2, stomping on the snails that were attacking the young sunflower seedlings. "The sunflowers made it," she said. "I just wished my kids' rubber boots fared as well, as they were pretty slimy."
If she hadn't planted the sunflowers outside her kitchen window, Pat Leach, of Edmonds, wouldn't have this little bright memory: "Had I hopes of making dishwashing easier as I looked out? It was such fun to watch their growth. When the first sight of glorious yellow blooms first appeared, I was overjoyed."
A salvaged sunflower
The Ray Allen and Jody Daniel family of Lynnwood will remember how Dad thought that giant piece of vegetation was a weed. The kids in the family, (Sydney, 7; Conner, 4; and Will, 2) put together a letter to me telling how Mom told Dad about that great sunflower she had planted, and Dad went something like uh-oh, and ended up rummaging through the compost bin. He found the half-dead sunflower, replanted it and guess what. It didn't exactly turn out to be a Giant Sunflower, but it bloomed.
You told me about sunflowers that grew one foot and then shriveled up. You told me about sunflowers that reached 12, 14 feet, and had to be held up with rope running from a second-story deck, with an old baseboard, with a contraption made from tomato cages. You told me about Giant Sunflowers that became the hobby of elderly people at an assisted-living facility.
You sent me pictures of sunflowers grown by the staff and kids at the University Baptist Children's Center. You sent me a picture of a Giant Sunflower wearing an Ichiro baseball hat. You sent me a picture of one of the plants draped with an American flag.
Squirrels? I heard plenty about them. As well as deer and dogs who liked to bury bones right by the sunflower seedlings. I heard about the sunflower punching it out for space with zucchini plants, and that one lonely sunflower that never gave in to the zucchinis.
Sunflower as muse
If you, Betsy Conyard of Bellevue, hadn't planted the Giant Sunflowers, your 8-year-old daughter, Mary, wouldn't have written this poem you'll always keep:
"Sunflower, sunflower we watched you grow,
"You're bigger than us from head to toe.
"We liked you so much because you're so tall.
"You started in the Summer and you ended in the Fall.
"We wish you would keep growing until you reached the sky.
"Now you're all droopy and we have so say good-bye."
There isn't room in the paper for all your photos. But look for additional photos on this paper's Web site. Just click on my column.
A bunch of you asked if there'd be a Giant Vegetable contest next year. You kidding?
Even when I forget, you always remind me of the important stuff.
Erik Lacitis' column runs Sunday, Tuesday and Friday. His phone number is 206-464-2237. His e-mail address is: elacitis@seattletimes.com.