SUNFLOWER SAGA BEGINS

Speaking of sunflowers; this very morning I was outside, sitting on the porch enjoying my small

daily allotment of organic coffee laced with a splash of goat milk, when I noticed another bright
yellow corona shining brilliantly from atop its long, sturdy green stem. It appeared to be trying to gain my full attention—swaying gently to and fro, in spite of the fact that there was no breeze!

I got up to investigate, closely observing the plant's large, craggy floret-face, crowned with a circle
of vibrant yellow rays, peering up at me. She wasn't exactly smiling—her expression was more like
a sneer. It wasn't a disgusting sneer; rather it was a condescending I-am-so-superior-to-you smirk. 

“What are you staring at?” She asked, her upper lip quivering slightly.

Of course, I know that a sunflower can't speak, let alone ask questions. So I continued to gaze into

the creature's frowning face; my mouth agape in wonderment. Why was I hearing voices—uh, one
voice: A plant vocalizing a legitimate, well founded question?

“Oh, I see that you are too stupid to answer. Humans usually are.” She huffed in obvious contempt;
then, sighing, she turned her large round head toward the sun, ignoring me entirely.

I went back to my bistro chair on the front porch, taking a long sip of my warm coffee. The

temperature was ninety degrees in the shade. The heat was definitely getting to me . . . .

“Manikari, Manikiel, you'll see things clearly after while. Flitter, flutter, listen to the words we
utter. Manikiel, Manikari, you'll have wisdom like a fairy.”

The sunflower mantra repeated over and over. I continued to drink from my coffee mug, determined

to pretend that the world around me was exactly the way I perceived it to be.