Posts Tagged ‘sunflower’
A farmer’s field of sunflowers in bloom in 2015. This is one of three fields the farmer uses for sunflowers, planting only one field each year.
If you like to take photographs—and, I think, particularly if you think of yourself as a photographer—you might find it difficult simply to drive past a field of sunflowers. I’ve seen dozens of gorgeous photographs taken by other photographers of these magnificent fields. What’s more, I’ve stopped two or three times a year for, perhaps, seven years to try to capture the quintessential sunflower field photograph.
I haven’t gotten close. Turns out, I’m not all that skilled a photographer. Still, I’ve nabbed a few decent photos of sunflower fields, and I’ll continue to stop and shoot whenever the opportunity arises.
Just three days ago I had such an opportunity. Never mind it’s mid-winter in central Pennsylvania. I took a side road to the grocery store, turned onto a side road of the side road to photograph a stately oak tree in a farmer’s field, and unexpectedly came upon a field of sunflowers.
In the spirit of raising spirits (seems to be a thing this time of year), I decided to photograph the sunflowers and share them on my blog. Mid-winter sunflowers can be quite striking. I hope you agree. So nice that only six weeks remain until spring.
A field of sunflowers in winter isn’t particularly eye-catching. I was surprised to see the farmer hadn’t harvested the seed heads from this field; there were plenty there for song birds. I captured many photos and left longing just a bit more for spring.
Sunflowers have surrounded a decorative shrub in a farmer’s field… or perhaps the shrub has infiltrated sunflower territory. Either way, it looks kinda cool.
Every summer I keep watch for fields of sunflowers in full bloom. A few local farmers grow sunflowers, swapping crops from field-to-field—sunflowers one year, corn another, and soy beans in another.
This year, there had been no sunflowers in the usual places, but yesterday I drove a few hundred yards past those places and discovered a thousand yellow flower heads.
These sunflowers were different from those of past seasons: Rather than simply filling a large field, they had surrounded a decorative shrub. OK, it’s not earth-shaking or anything, but I captured a few photos and have included one here.
Without apparent relationship to sunflowers, a few weeks ago my online gardening friends started chattering about naked ladies appearing in their yards. I’m not sure I’d heard such chattering in past years, but it was immediately apparent these naked ladies are some type of plant. In fact, I’d heard them called “surprise lilies” in past seasons.
Surprise lilies grow foliage in spring, but the leaves die back so people lose track of the plants by mid summer. Then, overnight, flowers emerge on stalks that can grow 24 inches tall.
The chattering started, and three days ago I noticed a stand of naked ladies across the street from a local church. Finally, this morning, I had a chance to stop and take pictures. The flowers are gorgeous, and there’s something refreshing about flower stalks rising above the landscape without accompanying foliage.
Can’t say I’d heard of the plant “Naked Ladies” until this season. Then, after seeing so many posts about them online, I spotted a cluster across the street from a church I often pass. I stopped for a closer look and took several photos. I confess: I enjoy looking at naked ladies.
The border of Lewisburg’s community garden features a variety of sunflowers, and this blossom caught my eye back in early summer.
None of the sunflowers in this post grow in my small kitchen garden. Sunflowers used to grow there; my kids loved to plant them and marvel at how tall the plants became. Now those same much older children barely give the garden a thought unless they’re looking for their old man and he’s not in the house.
I’ve always enjoyed sunflowers – even grew them myself before I realized I’d never use them for cooking or snacking. I get a little thrill each spring when I identify which field on my way to the local Mennonite grocery store has sunflowers growing in it.
As soon as the large buds start to open, I include roadside photo sessions in my shopping trips. I’ve yet to capture the quintessential sunflower photo, but I enjoy trying.
While shooting sunflowers, I often muse about where these cheery plants will end up. Are they bound to birdseed packagers? Will they be snacks for humans? Are they next year’s seeds for sunflower farmers all over the US?
The notion that a sunflower turns to face the moving sun is silly — at least from what happens in my favorite sunflower field. Every year, these blossoms open facing the morning sun. They continue facing east (and a bit south) throughout each day and they finish the season with their petal-less heads drooping but still facing east.
The face of a sunflower changes over the course of several weeks. These are at a stage where, within the bowl of the large flower, each developing seed has its own tiny flower. At least for a while, that makes the face of the sunflower yellow.