So You Think You Know Sunflowers: Tales from a Decade of Growing the OG Flower Child

The Accidental Flower Farmer

Once upon a time, we planted sunflowers simply because they were pretty. That’s it. No business plan, no side hustle in mind, just a deep, instinctive need to see big, happy faces bobbing across the fields in the sun. Legend says my Uncle Will Weirman liked sunflowers and always planted a few each summer. (I do not remember this.) For over a decade, these towering summer icons were our farm’s version of wallpaper—beautiful, cheerful, and not really paying rent.

But then last year, we started selling bouquets regularly, and suddenly our sunflowers stopped being background extras and started stealing the show. Turns out, people don’t just like sunflowers—they lose their minds over them. They practically throw cash at you when they see one in a bouquet, like it’s the last good thing left in the world. But for all their charm and cheer, sunflowers have a prickly side—literally. So if you’re ready for some real talk from a flower farmer with dirt under her nails and scratch marks on her arms, let’s get into it.

Why We Grew Them (Before We Knew Better)

When we first started growing them, it had nothing to do with making money. We just wanted something that looked like summer exploded in the field. Nothing says “real farm” quite like a lineup of sunflowers swaying in the breeze, silently judging your weeding technique. And for years, that’s all they did—stand tall, look gorgeous, and attract birds, bees, and the occasional confused tourist. It never occurred to us to sell them. They were too much fun just to look at.

But eventually, the bouquets came calling, and with them came the realization that sunflowers are more than just pretty faces—they're absolute workhorses. They grow fast, bloom big, and sell faster than anything else on the stand. People love sunflowers in a way that borders on irrational. You can hand someone a bouquet of the fanciest, most exotic blooms you’ve ever grown, and if there’s a single sunflower in there? That’s all they see. “OH MY GOSH A SUNFLOWER!” Yes, friend. Thank you. I grew that. And the rest of the bouquet too.

Sunflower Secrets and Shady Truths

Here’s what most people don’t realize about sunflowers: you don’t pick them. You cut them. And if you try to do otherwise, the stem will laugh in your face and stay firmly attached to the plant. These are not gentle, cooperative flowers—they are thick-stemmed, stubborn, and built like botanical broomsticks. (Please do not take this as an invitation to join those who help themselves to our flowers…root & all.)

And the leaves? Don’t be fooled by their fuzzy little faces. Sunflower leaves are nature’s version of sandpaper, and if you’re silly enough to harvest without sleeves, you’re going to end up with what I lovingly call the “sunflower rash.” This is not to be confused with the “caterpillar rash” which all of us kids learned the hard way when we were young. But those fuzzy caterpillars look like they HAVE to crawl on us?!

Despite their abrasive side, sunflowers are refreshingly low-maintenance. Once established, they hardly need to be watered at all. They’re like that one friend who thrives on chaos, forgets to eat lunch, and still survives with a smile. It’s ME! I’m that friend. Hmmm…I may be figuring out this sunflower growing thing…

And yes, they do that whole sun-following thing—but only while they’re young. Once they mature, they stop tracking the sun and all face east like they just had an epiphany. It’s both charming and slightly unsettling.

And let’s talk about variety, because not all sunflowers are created equal. There are the tidy, single-stem varieties that are perfect for cutting, and then there are the wild, branching types that seem to have a personal vendetta against row spacing. (I do not like these ones so much. But I just learned this last year so…there will still be some this year to mock me as I try to figure out if they’re worth the time it takes to harvest them or to just let them live their life.) Some are pollenless and florist-friendly. Others will leave a bright yellow dusting on your table and in your soul. We’ve learned the difference the hard way—usually around mid-July, when the wrong kind starts branching across the cosmos like it owns the place.

Tips from the Trenches (You’re Welcome)

Start them from seed. Don’t even think about transplanting—sunflowers hate being moved, and they will punish you with stunted growth and judgmental droopiness.

Give them space, because overcrowding leads to mildew, tangled stems, and enough drama to rival a high school lunchroom. Staking can be optional, depending on the variety and your tolerance for chaos. (No staking for me.) And if you want a steady supply, don’t plant them all at once like an overachiever. Succession planting is the name of the game if you want more than a week of glory followed by a whole lot of “welp, guess that’s over.” I’m a slow poke about my planting so they always stretch throughout the summer. A project from start to finish in a day just does not compute.

Selling Them Without Losing Your Mind

Selling them, though—that’s where the magic (and the comedy) begins. Customers go absolutely feral for sunflowers. You could have the most elegant, artfully designed bouquet, but throw in a sunflower and it’s suddenly a “must-have.”

Harvesting them is a learned art. Cut them earlier than you think you should—trust me. Wait too long, and they’ll blow open in the vase like a sleepy toddler in the cereal aisle. Strip those leaves unless you want your bouquets to function as loofahs, and please, for the love of your skin, wear gloves. You may think you’re tough, but these stems are armed and prickly. (Narrator: She does not wear gloves. Do as she says, not as she does.)

Sunflower Fails (Because Let’s Be Honest)

Of course, no flower season is complete without a few sunflower disasters. Like the many times thunderstorms took down half the field. Or every year when I nurture my deep hatred for MORNING GLORIES and their ability (along with the deer) to just take down sunflower after sunflower. Or when I accidentally planted a branching variety in a single-stem row and ended up with what looked like a mutant sunflower forest of short stemmed, inconsistently blooming flowers. Or the drought last year that made germination nearly impossible and grew miniature sunflowers (if any) in any succession planted after July 15th.

Why We Still Grow Them (Even When They’re Jerks)

And yet… we keep growing them. Because despite their scratchy texture and tendency to flop dramatically, sunflowers are everything we love about flower farming. They’re reliable. They’re hardy. They bring joy to literally everyone who sees them.

Every summer bouquet looks just a little more complete with that burst of sunshine tucked in the back. Plus, they survive the brutal July heat, our occasionally erratic watering schedule, and the kind of exhaustion only a part-time farmer/full-time teacher/mom-of-two can truly understand.

Final Thoughts and a Shameless Invite

So yes, we’ve been growing sunflowers for over ten years—first for the look, now for the love and the hustle. They’re prickly little sunbeams with a stubborn streak and a gift for making people happy.

If you’ve never grabbed a bouquet from our stand, come say hi. Our flowers may be a little wild, a little weird, and a little rough around the edges—just like us—but there will always be sunflowers. And they will definitely be staring east (directly at you as you pull into the roadstand).