Grown Home

There’s a patch of sunflowers towering over what was meant to be my cutting garden this season. I didn’t plant them; they’re volunteers from last year’s scattered heads that I managed to semi-organize into a cluster as seedlings. Unlike all the fancy cut flower plants I babied in our off-grid greenhouse this spring, they survived the May freeze with nary a browned leaf. 

While these towering beauties were not in “the plan” I’m a sucker for thriving, self-planted blooms, and so they crowded out a good portion of the eastern side of my garden. These golden blooms are at peak this week, and my adapted plan to have them blooming as a backdrop for my wedding in six weeks is also looking unlikely. If you drive by the farm, you really won’t get to enjoy them much either, as mature sunflowers face east- and that’s away from the road- towards home. 

The patch is a glorious sight on walks with my daughter. Her outdoor play pavilion sits just east of the garden, so we get a private sunflower wall to enjoy every day. Part of me, the part that likes to show off, was frustrated that from the road my garden is barely seen, blockaded by a wood pile and tall weeds that we leave to cut down on the wafting road dust. It’s hard to do things just for myself  without the urge to show the world- “See! I can do amazing things!” Right now, my amazing things are growing at home, and I have little energy or time to face the western side of the road to show passersby. 

I don’t need to be reminded that I can do great things, or maybe I do- but I do need to be reminded that who I do great things for is more important than wowing anyone from the roadside of my life. I raised a child in the fast lane already, and despite all the juggling of duty, career, and upheaval he’s coming into adulthood a truly remarkable soul, but not without a few scars that I can’t help but feel were inflicted by my way of life. 

I am cautioned not to compare the two lifestyles that my children- sixteen years apart, live. The best advice I was given was, when we know better, we do better, and I try to limit my introspection with that in mind. But I do know that I truly want to grow my home to be a place where I spend the most time, energy, and love. Growing a home is both hard work and a private joy, one that doesn’t need outside approval, because it is fashioned specially for me and my own. 

These two years so far in the farm we have had amazing growth, much of which can only be seen from the inside. While I get wistful looking at other gardens and homes, I am reminded that my home is one that has been grown from bare earth and seeds, much sweat, a little blood- and a few tears. And here and there self-sown flowers pop up and grow without a thought to where and when they’ll bloom, much less how many will see them. They’re grown for the home, as home grows around them.