I'll be honest with you — this whole thing started organically. It was inside me, but I didn't know it. The ideas grew. Reaching for information like roots for water. Spreading out in all directions, changing, expanding…
Okay, enough of that.
I had been thinking about retirement. Not in a dramatic way. Just in that quiet, practical way where you start asking yourself, "Alright… what am I actually going to do with the rest of my life?"
In an attempt to find the perfect plan, I read countless books and articles — most of which turned out to be blah, blah, blah. The only thing I can remember is the need to have three and a half hobbies. Not three. Not four. Three and a half.
I don't know why the half matters, but it stuck with me.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't just want hobbies — I wanted something that felt like it mattered. Something that created enough energy to drag my retired self out of bed in the morning.
I needed something that grew.
So I started small. A countertop hydroponic system. Twelve little pods. Lettuce.
And to be fair — the lettuce is doing great. Better than I expected, actually. It turns out if you give something light, water, and a little attention, it tends to respond.
There's probably a lesson in there somewhere.
But pretty quickly, I realized something.
This wasn't enough.
Not because it wasn't working — but because it didn't feel… big enough. Not tall enough. Not interesting enough. It didn't tell much of a story.
And if I'm being honest, I think I was really looking for a story.
So somewhere along the way — and I can't point to the exact moment — this idea started to grow. What if it wasn't just lettuce? What if it was something bigger? Something visual. Something you could step back and look at and say, "Yeah… that's something."
That's when the sunflowers showed up.
Now, I'll admit — at this point, most people think I'm a little crazy. Maybe more than a little. And they might not be wrong. There's a backyard involved. A "Grove Park." A "Prospect Field." Weekly matchups. Rankings. Judges.
It's… a lot.
But here's the thing.
It's not really about the sunflowers.
It's about building something with your hands. It's about paying attention to something over time. It's about having a reason to go outside — or downstairs, or wherever your "field" happens to be — and check in on something that depends on you, even just a little bit.
And more than that, it's about doing it together.
Family shows up differently when there's something to gather around. Even if that something is twelve plants and a slightly over-structured "competition" that nobody fully understands.
There's conversation. There's laughter. There's a little bit of pride. Maybe even a little bit of trash talk.
That's the good stuff.
I've always believed — or at least I think I have — that if you're not growing, you're… well… not really living the way you should be. I'm sure someone smarter than me said that first. I just can't remember who.
But it feels true.
Growth doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be happening.
So that's why I started this.
Not to build something impressive. Not to prove anything.
Just to see what happens when you plant something, pay attention to it, and let it become a story.
And if all goes according to plan, we're going to have some pretty great sunflowers later this summer.
If not — well, at least the lettuce turned out alright.
Anyway… something's growing.