"Coming from somewhere fun?"

I'm walking up my driveway after getting back from a trail run.

It's not fully dark yet but it's getting there. I've got a running vest slung over my shoulder, a water bottle in one hand, and my keys in the other. Looking up, I see a tall figure moving toward me from the shadows. It takes a second for me to register that it's my neighbor, Jason, holding the remains of a potted plant.

So I tell him about where I went trail running, and we both agree that this is much better weather for it than the heat spell we've been cooking in lately. After setting the planter down next to him, Jason tells me how they just got back from a backpacking trip in the White Mountains down in New Hampshire. We don't get to talk all that much, but I tend to think that's mostly because we operate on different schedules. Usually, we offer one another a smile and a wave from afar, while one is coming and the other's going, but tonight we've managed to meet in the middle.

"So what's going on there?" I ask, pointing at the giant, potted corpse of what look to be... sunflower stalks, maybe?

He sighs. Their yard is full of plant life. There's yellows and oranges of different shapes, shades, and textures. A variety of flowers wend their way skyward between bushes of different thicknesses and trees of different sizes. From my office, I have this clear view of the green vines that seem to swallow one very unassuming trellis by their covered-back porch. That's where they often host community potlucks and things like that. Actually, he and his wife are out there no matter what. I see them having coffee together every morning while I make mine.

"These things grow like weeds," he says. Shrugging, he adds, "I can't keep up, so I try to give them away."

Now it clicks: this is the potted plant that's been by the curb with the "free" sign on it.  He'd posted about it in our local Front Porch Forum.

I give a little jump to slide my running vest further up my shoulder so it won't slip. The sunflower stalks really were beautiful... you know, when they were alive. But huge. And very gangly. I don't know where I'd have put them. Maybe our other neighbors ran into the same issue.

Jason bends to scoop up the sunflowers' mummified remains.

"Guess we'll just have to try again."

---

Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
356/365

What do you do when you think your efforts have gone unnoticed or unaccepted?

onward. 

For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.