The transcendent beauty
of this poor bedraggled sunflower, unsuccessful springboard for a squirrel after bird seed, calls forth from my soul some understanding for the struggles that the uncouth volunteers in my garden must bear against the brunt of my weeding frenzies - they cannot or will not blend into the blandness of tomato, pepper, and basil plants but push forward with their otherworldly attempts to express some individuality demonstrating their unique right to a small spot in the garden, a spot that was clearly their own before the cultivation of my trim near-identical rows of easy eatables.
I like sunflowers.
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