DEATH from Neil Gaiman’s SANDMAN. And sunflowers.
I drew this commission in 2009. Now it feels terrifyingly prophetic.
Sunflowers are hearty and powerful plants. They grow big and they grow strong. Their stalks are as big around as a piece of bamboo, but they’re hollow and covered in small hairs that feel like thorns to the naked hand.
We grew them next to our tomatoes last year, to provide shade for the tomatoes. The stalks had to be cut in late October. I used a machete, and it took several whacks before I cleaved the stalk of each of the sunflowers.
They were so bright and so beautiful in their prime. In the mid to late summer. We had to prune the flowers back. The branches and buds would bloom and then die back. The branches were so hearty that they weighed down plant, and needed to be maintained. Sunflowers that became burdened by their own magnificence.
Sunflowers have a season. They must be pruned and cared for in order to thrive. They are beautiful and powerful and strong, but they are burdened by the weight of decay and of time.
It’s March now. The sunlight came across my kitchen counter as I ate my supper tonight. I had to draw the shade because the glinting light was bothering my eyes. I am kind of tired - I had a busy day of preparing our garden for the planting of new buds and new flowers. Preparing our equipment. Watching the soybean and corn fields slowly turn to green.
The sunflowers will be here before too long.