Sunflower Farms

Sunflower Farms was inspired by those signs we see along the country roads for “Free Kittens”. What better way to spend an afternoon than picking sunflowers and going home with a brand-new furry friend?

Model stitched on 18 count aida

Ivory Charles Craft

Stitch Count 77 x 77. Stitched 1 over 1

Finished Size approximately 5” square

DMC THREAD COLORS:

453, 646, 680, 725, 729, 732, 792, 793, 801, 869, 3371, 3753, 3820

A Visit to Sunflower Farms

The late afternoon sun cast long, amber shadows across the gravel road leading to  Clara’s Sunflower Farms. Her roadside stand was simple: a wooden cart with a blue-and-yellow striped awning, flanked by tall, nodding sunflowers that she sold for a dollar a bunch. But the flowers weren't the main attraction today. Settled atop the counter, nestled in a cozy wicker basket lined with flannel, were three tiny, blinking bundles of fur.

Below the counter, a brightly stitched banner announced the real news: FREE KITTENS.

Clara had found the litter three weeks ago in her hayloft—two marmalade tabbies with eyes like polished amber, and a little soot-black kitten who possessed a surprisingly grand personality. She had promised herself she’d find them good homes before harvest, but as the hours ticked by, the gravel road remained quiet.

Beside the tall stalks, the kittens' mother, a quiet brown tabby, sat patiently in the grass, watching over her brood like a tiny, watchful sentinel. 

"Looks like it's just us today, little ones," Clara murmured, leaning against the cart as a gentle breeze set the sunflower heads dancing.

Then, the low rumble of a vintage pickup truck echoed down the quiet country road. The rusted blue truck slowed, its tires crunching onto the gravel shoulder before coming to a stop. Out stepped an older man in denim overalls, accompanied by a young girl with pigtails who immediately gasped, pointing at the cart.

"Grandpa, look!" the girl exclaimed, darting toward the stand. "Sunflowers and kittens!"

The little black kitten scrambled to the edge of the basket, letting out a tiny, squeaky mew of welcome. The girl cautiously reached out a hand, her eyes lighting up as the kitten immediately began to purr, rubbing its face against her knuckles. 

"Well now," the grandfather smiled, walking over and tossing a crisp one-dollar bill into Clara’s cash box before selecting a bright bunch of blooms. "Looks like we came for a flower and left with a friend."

By sunset, the wicker basket was empty, the golden sunflowers were sold, and Clara packed up the cart with a warm, grateful heart—knowing her little farm had brought a whole lot of sunshine to the neighborhood.