Remember the sunflower, the only one we had this year, the one that was so bent from bearing? I cut off its head (Can we indulge in this plant being womanly at this point? No.) and hung it to dry in the greenhouse.
Take note of those Almost-A-Man hands - My Youngest, trying to hold the head steady. He's right on the cusp of adolescence, poor boy. Poor us. His heart is still a little-boy heart, though, and that is a wonderful, saving grace. I'm enjoying the last bit of childish goodness in him - the same that I failed to appreciate as my older boys passed this way. Is that savoring appreciation, that goes out to the youngest of any family, what is mistaken for favoritism by outsiders? "The baby is always spoiled," they say. Maybe just overly, belatedly appreciated? Hmmm...
We forgot about it until tufted titmice busily flying in and out of the greenhouse attracted our attention again. They were already dining on the seed! Nice!
'She' gave everything she had to feed many! This analogy can thread its way, all the way out, in the direction of martyrs, but I'll leave you to follow that one yourself.