I couldn't resist buying myself a bouquet of sunflowers when I saw them at the grocery store the other day. They made me smile just looking at them as I pushed my buggy up and down the aisles to check off my list.

These flowers are a sign of autumn, as there seem to be very few displays (the charming scarecrow or the pumpkin-and-gourd arrangement or the occasional wreath of colored leaves) that don't include at least one big, round sunflower face.

I think of them as happy flowers. They are not in the delicate, fragrant category. Instead they are sort of unpretentious and hearty, with their thick stalks and strong faces. They are simply cheerful flowers.

I remember when my grandma and grandpa used to grow them in their garden. Along with green beans and corn, they would have one striking row of sunflowers. They always reminded me of the "Jack and the Beanstalk" story the way they towered over us.

I imagined that if only the summer could be a little longer, they'd have time to grow properly up into the clouds. And I could sit on one of the flowers, safely enveloped by bright petals, and eat sunflower seeds all day while I watched the world down below.

Even in their realistic state, Grandpa had to reach up a little to pick those seeds. I always felt like there was something magical about eating the seeds right out of a flower. Maybe it was Grandpa's joke of a warning: Don't eat too many or they'll start growing in your belly!

I took that advice very seriously at the time, only eating a couple (I wasn't entirely sure what the cut-off might be). I knew instinctively that a third-grader with a yellow flower coming out of her nose probably not would not keep friends very easily. Innocent belly rumbles for the entire evening would make me fleetingly nervous.

The sunflowers I picked up for my apartment are mere infants compared to the lovely giants in my grandparents' garden. They are still sturdy enough though; the five of them barely fit into my vase. But even so, they make me smile and remind me of magical possibilities -- even without the seeds.

The problem is they are just a little too pleasant -- too easily do they put me in a good mood. I'm addicted. I've already decided to get another round when these die. I just hope fall lasts long enough for me to spoil myself with sunflowers for at least another few weeks.

Heidi Evans is a Lawrence County native and freelance writer who shares her observations each week in the Lawrence Herald. She can be reached at haevans8@yahoo.com.

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