Kiley's U-Pick

Earthy, rich hues gleam in the sun: golden with deep brown centers, red with a cherry-black center, and some rusty, fading to yellow, with a burnt-toast middle. The sunflowers' vivid colors cause traffic jams on the country road. The dwarf ones sit near the road, and taller varieties grow behind them. The six-foot chocolate cherry sunflower is her specialty. The plants stand like sentinels in the fields, faint breezes encouraging them to dance in stunning displays.

Like all experienced gardeners, she waits to plant until after the danger of frost has passed. It used to be May 15th, then moved back to April, which became her planting month for the past four years.

Her body stiffened as she glanced out the window. “Dammit, what the hell? Sonofabitch weather!” She went into the rows, her toes freezing in flip-flops; she snapped photos: ice crystals surrounding an umber eye; golden points curled or broken; some stalks were limp in the early sun, blooms sopping. It had snowed last night.

The Illinois summers were growing hotter and hotter; only today, in early May, it had snowed. A snow that had stuck to the ground, cars, trees, and her plants. The freak cold cracked her flower heads, and the stalks snapped from the ice. Damn, my crop is ruined. Less income this year. She put on a heavy sweatshirt, socks, and boots, and then fired up her small tractor.

“Mother Nature, how could you fuck me over like this?" she shouted. "I have to plow them under and start over. Watch me, MaNa - I’ll replant and I double dare you to freeze my precious blooms again!”

She hummed a lively tune as she plowed the frostbitten flowers under. To relieve some pent-up anger, she ran the tractor in all directions over the rows, enjoying the bumpy ride, as the dirt spun under her.

“MaNa truly IS a biatch. Not a cloud now in your mischievous sky. Keep it that way, would you?” The day had warmed considerably, and the snow was gone. She collected new seeds from the barn. Bosley, her Tuxedo cat, rode with her and purred loudly as she dropped the seeds for the dwarfs. He curled up on her tanned knees when she began the rows of Autumn Beauty and Earthwalker, in deep rust-to-red colors. All morning, she dropped the seeds in the newly plowed rows, covering them gently with fertilized soil.

“Come on, Bosley, let’s turn on the sprinklers.” She held him in her arms, watching the mist nourish the rows, then put him in the house.

Kiley met her friend Jerri in town for dinner and ranted about her ruined crop.

“Snow? It didn’t snow at my house!"

"You are only two miles from me. It had to have snowed there too. Maybe it melted before you got up.” Kiley stared at her friend, and Jerri shook her head.

“I plowed them under.”

“What? No, that’s horrible! Will they grow in time for U-Pick?”

“Depends on the weather. I saved money from last year’s extra-large crop as a buffer. I’ve got the bake shop and coffee stand…”

Kiley tracked the temperature each day. It was 75 degrees at 6 a.m. and climbed above 95. The nights stayed hot, which kept the mornings hot. She had to water more often with the hot days, and concluded she needed to charge a bit more: $9 per dozen became $10, and it was now $1 per stem rather than $0.75. She spent most of one day examining all her expenses: water, seeds, fuel, and utilities. ChatGPT told her to sell a dozen for $12, but she felt she could make up the loss at $10 and keep customers.

Her crop grew rapidly, and she was only slightly behind on opening the U-Pick field. She placed her hand-painted sandwich board signs strategically around town.

Kiley’s Sunflowers: Coffee and Treats. U-Pick $10 per dozen or $1 per stem.

Sketches of various sunflower species decorated the edges of the boards. She placed similar posters at restaurants, the four-way stoplight at the freeway, and in the gas station windows. The online newspaper ran a feature about her U-Pick sunflowers, and the city TV station came out to interview her.

Friday, August 1st was the opening, and she had two food trucks lined up with some tents for shade. Bosley sat on the front steps with her, watching the fluttering butterflies, his eyes darting back and forth. The field was covered in enormous bumblebees: black and gold, black and yellow, all yellow, and some with an orange stripe in the middle. Honey and Mason bees were competing to grab nectar. She planted the flowers for the joy of feeding the bees, knowing they pollinated people's food. And for the smiles on people when they came to pick.

“Come on, Boz, time for dinner. Tomorrow is a big day, right?” Bosley chirped at her and rubbed his teeth through her hair, making her giggle.

Kiley dreamed of new recipes for the coffee stand, and she wrote them down as soon as she woke up, then had breakfast. The stars shone faintly, and a few streaks of pink told her the sun was beginning its climb up over the horizon.

As the neighboring rooster crowed, she called to Bosley, “Hey, boy, let’s go open the gate to the fields.”

She stepped out onto her porch and fell down on a frosting of ice.

“No, no, nooooooo!” She crawled to the post and dragged herself up. An inch of snow was on the ground, and her sunflowers tilted sadly. She phoned Jerri. “It snowed. My flowers are dead.”

“You're dreaming. It didn’t snow here. It is 85 degrees at 6:30 a.m. What are you talking about? I'll be right over.”

Jerri smiled at the hand-lettered signs, admiring the artistry. The sunflower field looked fine, even with the light dusting of snow.

She ran up the steps and hugged her best friend. “Remember the saying: if you build it, they will come. Even in snow. The sunflowers are all perky, like ballerinas, reaching to the sun through this freak flurry, and ready to pick. See?” She pointed to the fields. She says they are okay, and if these are, then were the others too? Did I waste time, money, and effort replanting unnecessarily? Kiley rolled the thoughts around in her head.

Jerri went to take care of customers lining up at the latte stand. Many had brought their kids; they grabbed buckets and clippers and headed to the rows of flowers. Jerri watched her friend the pickers, whose heads turned right and left as they tried to decide which bloom to ship. Kiley wandered the fields, greeting people and offering help. It's August snow! What the hell! People came in sandals, expecting sun and warmth. She offered them small tarps and umbrellas to cover their heads. Even with snowflakes hitting their heads, they want iced lattes. Caffeine rules the world.

The fields stayed open until it was totally dark. All the pickers had left, and the Big Dipper was visible when Kiley rustled up an easy meal. Jerri reported $1,200 in flower sales and $300 at the coffee stand.

Saturday morning, a Chicago news crew came. A famous local master gardener, with his own TV show, had come with them. He walked the rows under the hot sun, examined the buds, and told her they were the most fabulous sunflowers he had ever seen. He asked how she cultivated them and couldn’t believe they came from seeds she collected at the end of the season.

“You could sell your seeds, you know.” He offered more advice as he clipped a bouquet for himself.

She told him about the snow and plowing under the first crop.

“I see,” he said, looking at the field. “Snow traps nitrogen and ammonia but it wouldn’t be enough to make them grow like this.”

“I add the coffee grounds to the dirt.” He nodded at her. “It snowed last night again.” His eyebrows lifted. “I woke up and saw my fields of flowers were crusted with ice, but miraculously, they were fine for the crowds to pick today.” Jerri hooked her arm through Kiley’s, listening.

“I’m seventy-nine, lived here my whole life, and it has never snowed on August 2nd.”

"I saw it too. The pickers wandered those fields in snow flurries yesterday." Jerri put her arm around Kiley's shoulders.

“I… my head hurts so much; I can’t think. The light… I’m sorry, excuse me.” Kiley sat on the step, her hands covering her eyes.

“A migraine? Why don’t you go inside and get out of the heat? I’ll take care of the stuff out here.” Jerri guided her inside, her hand resting on Kiley’s waist.

Back on the porch, she stood next to the master gardener. “I’m sorry. She began having horrid migraines after her parents died suddenly in a horrific...”Jerri trailed off.  “She inherited the farm, and there’s a lot of pressure to keep it solvent. I thought she had imagined the snow because none fell at my place two miles up the road. I drove here right away and the closer I got, the further the temp dropped on the gauge in my Toyota. It was 31 degrees as I pulled in the drive. It gradually warmed up, but all morning, people picked sunflowers in a light snowfall.”

“I have to get something from my car.” He came back holding an old brown leather medical bag with the hinged opening. Jerri took him inside to Kiley, who lay on the couch with a cold rag over her face. She mumbled incoherently as the man took her hand.

“Kiley, I’m Bernard. I have a naturopathic practice and am also an MD. Gardening is my hobby," he said, looking up at Jerri. "I'm going to have Jerri apply a salve over your cheekbones and forehead, if that is okay?” Kiley nodded, and he handed the salve to Jerri. She lightly massaged the salve into Kiley’s cheekbones and forehead as the doctor watched, nodding in approval. He took out a stethoscope and listened to Kiley's breathing as he took her pulse. The air filled with the scent of peppermint and lavender from the salve. 

“If you come to see me, I will help you figure out what is causing these migraines at no charge. Here's my card."

Kiley woke at sunrise, a smile as bright as the Giant Sungold sunflower lighting her face. The room smelled of coffee and cinnamon. “You baked the cinnamon coffee cake!” She ran to the kitchen and saw Jerri's breakfast cake, still warm, in the middle of the table, next to Kerrygold sweet cream butter. Sliced nectarines, scarlet strawberries, and jumbo blueberries were mixed in a bowl. Jerri had placed her famous hand-made whipped cream next to the fruit.

“I'm glad that you’re better today. Look at this.” She handed Kiley her cell phone to see reports of snow over the sunflower field. The news article said the only place snow fell was at the sunflower "U-Pick Farm.

“It's so odd, isn't it? Thank you, my dear friend, for staying the night; and for making my favorite breakfast.”

"Bernard left you a Farmer's Almanac. Said he always plants with their advice." Jerri handed the booklet to Kiley. They took their plates out to the table in the yard, enjoying the quiet morning that was heating up fast.

"My grandma read that thing faithfully. She said it was always right. Come to think of it…have you noticed all the acorns falling? They hit me on the head the other morning. It seems early for the trees to be shedding them," Kiley said.

"Yeah! I got hit on the head too. It's like a damn rock hitting you. I have a lot of thick spider webs on my porch and over the swing in my backyard too." Jerri rubbed her head absent-mindedly, remembering.

"Grandma said that those thick spider webs are another sign of an early and hard winter."

They sat there, basking in the morning sun. Its rays were strong even this early, and the air was heavy and humid. They both looked up at a ruckus in the sky as an enormous V-formation of Canada geese flew south in a tight formation.

                Copyright © 9/19/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin