I had a great crop of Sunflowers this year, and am only now getting to some of the images I took.
These fascinate me - maybe because of Vincent Van Gogh and his paintings. The brilliant yellows, golds, oranges, burnt siennas sufficed with so much light that he couldn't layer the paint thickly enough. Maybe it's the mystery of the never ending spiral of seeds in the center.
Even past their prime, the wilting Sunflower conveys a sad strength that more fragile flowers disguise. Instead, this guy wears his flaws on his face as scars: it's triumph over predators - over scorching sun and even over the more romantic flowers smelling of love that gardeners often prefer...
No, the sunflower is steadfast triumph.