SUNFLOWERS SCARED ME AS A KID (AND THEY STILL DO)
by
Tom Lavagnino
Yes, sunflowers.
They’re just flowers, true.
But unlike other blossoms, they were always super-tall, looming over me as a young child. They also lacked the “aesthetic beauty” of other flowers (though others may argue with me about this). Most saliently, however, sunflowers seemed to constantly proffer an aggressive malignancy of face.
Take a close look at the heart of a sunflower and you’ll see what I’m talking about. The “visage” of the thing -– the dense cluster of honeycomb-like, seemingly insect-adjacent seeds at its center — seems to almost scream malevolent intent.
And the “flowering” surrounding it, as I say, is a strictly utilitarian construct. Sunflower petals lack the beauty of an orchid, tulip, or even a nasturtium. (To compare a sunflower to a daffodil is an outright insult to the narcissus, c’mon.)
I’m somewhat chagrined to admit that my aversion to sunflowers has continued all the way into adulthood.
But at least I’m not alone in my fear. The “faces in the field” quality of sunflowers -– the notion that “they’re always watching you” — was a fundamental component of MIDSOMMER, after all.
And I was pleased to learn that psychological researchers Geoff Cole and Arnold Wilkins recently codified sunflower phobia — labeling it “trypophobia” and likening said fear to “an emotional reaction” to “images of holes.”
More specifically, they discovered that sunflower-based stimuli “possesses a spectral composition typically associated with uncomfortable visual images, namely, high-contrast energy at midrange spatial frequencies”; they added that “a range of potentially dangerous animals also possess this spectral characteristic.”
So perhaps my fear of sunflowers has imbued, within me, the instinctual ability to recognize a malevolent dog from a friendly one? (I’d like to think that it does.)
But despite any positive affectations that my sunflower aversion may embody, I’d really, truly, honestly like to vanquish my fear.
And they say the thing to do is face it — right?
With this in mind, I recently visited my friend Beverly Simcock and her husband James at their family farm in Swansea, Massachusetts. There, they annually construct a corn maze for Halloween … and an accompanying “sunflower maze.”
Yeah. I took the plunge.
And made it to the end.
I can’t say that I enjoyed it.
But it’s a start –- of a sunny journey?
