The New Yorkerのインスタグラム(newyorkermag) - 10月11日 09時00分

"Unlike other, fancier-sounding plants—lady’s mantle, love-lies-bleeding, guelder rose—the sunflower, without apparent effort, conjures up a world of warmth and light with two and a half simple syllables," the British novelist and avid gardener Charlotte Mendelson writes. "Other plants loll around, good for nothing except a couple weeks of decorativeness. The sunflower has always been so hardworking, so uncomplaining. Pollinators love them; bees can shelter in their dried-out hollow stems; even their petals can be eaten. Soppier plants die at the first sign of chill, but sunflowers can last into fall." Tap the link in our bio to read about Mendelson’s love—and suspicion—of sunflowers. After all, "2020 is the year of paranoia," Mendelson writes. Illustration by Dan Salmieri.

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