When my son Austen's death came...I returned to the garden. The place he and I could be found on warm Spring mornings, his toes squished in the dirt...his little chubby fingers wrapped around the shovel handle. We planted Sunflowers every year...watching them grow like skyscrapers, radiantly bloom & then hang their heavy heads, once every bright petal had fallen. They were his favorite flower & I plant them every year in his honor. His memory....alive in every beautiful bloom I capture~