Spike and the sunflower seeds

We expect great things from our little sprouts.  Spike ordered  sunflower seeds from The Diggers Club, an Australian plant supplier which describes itself as "the club for subversive gardeners".  It draws inspiration from the radical tradition of the Diggers Movement established in 1649 in England by a group of non-conformist Protestant dissenters who have been described by some as agrarian socialists.  I'm not entirely sure the socialist label exactly fits a movement of pre-industrial egalitarian thinkers and doers who not only thought about what Christian Scripture meant within a dissenting tradition but also took direct action to reclaim land to grow produce to feed the poor.  They were certainly on the right side of history even if their influence on events and the shape of Cromwell's England was slight.  But I digress.

Spike and the sunflower seeds

Spike ordered four types of sunflower (as well as fruit trees, vegetables, herbs and other flowers) from the Diggers Club, which has its base on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria.  We bought organic seeding mix from corporate giant Bunnings (until the compost heap matures we must remain a touch compromised) and Spike made individual seed pots using old, unsolicited newspapers delivered to our door, rolled around the base of an empty lemoncello bottle from a (fairly) local wine-maker at the delightful Eling Forest Winery (my favourite stop on the Hume Highway when we're driving between Canberra and Sydney).

We have Van Gogh, Moonwalker, Giant Russian and Prado Red sunflowers in the making; all tiny seedlings at the moment but quickly establishing themselves thanks to sunny days and a decent amount of rain.  Snails have raided the tray of paper pots, unfortunately, to munch their laconic way through the barely established leaves of a few of the sprouts but some seem hardy enough to recover.  Here and there new leaves are replacing those that have been devoured.  Can a snail devour?  Whether it can or not Spike is on snail watch from this point forward.

I view the growth of these plants with mild trepidation.  The smallest of the variants reaches at least two metres in height.  The Giant Russian, we are told, can grow to more than 3 metres high with a flower head of approximately 40 centimetres in diameter.  And, of course, the heads turn to follow the sun as it crosses the sky.  That's a bit too Triffid like for my comfort.  In a few weeks we may need to lock the doors to keep ourselves safe as we sleep in our bed.