The story I heard went something like this.
The sun was up in the east and promising to bring with it another warm July day. She stood in the gravel at the end of the lane looking off into the distance. She stood silently waiting. He had promised. She was waiting for his return.
The last time she had seen him he had looked so handsome in his new army issued uniform with his backpack slung over his broad shoulders. In their last moments together he had promised to return to her. They shared one long embrace and a tender sweet kiss and then he had hopping onto the back of his friend’s waiting wagon. He was gone; gone to serve his county.
Every morning since she rose at dawn and stood at the side of this country road, waiting for his return. Her cornflower blue eyes facing east.
westlakemusings 
Does chickory face west in the morning? Now Im going to have to look and see for myself. I like the story.
I understand that Chicory follows the sun, (facing east) but is only open in the morning.
Hi!
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Sent from a prehistoric stone tablet, Warren Grimm
This is so sad. The flower is beautiful, but the story is sad. I’m sure he does not return.