I’m a little fried after meeting my recent deadline. But it also means since that the book is done, I’ve finally taken time to stop and sniff the flowers, now that the ground isn’t covered in snow. Yes, spring is late again on the western high plains, no surprise.
Which flowers am I talking about, might you ask? Well, the lilacs are starting to bloom. The apple and cherry trees are bursting with color and scents. The chokecherry bushes are still budding out. But the flower I see? Dandelions.
Tis dandelion season and I’ll admit: I love the little buggers. Their fuzzy, cheery yellow faces, the long, thick milky stalks, and their resilience–they can pop up in the damndest places. When we’ve had months of dead brown grass and piles of snow, something about those happy yellow flowers makes me smile. They grow everywhere. Seeing an entire clearing of dandelions takes me back to my childhood. We’d comb the ditches, pick bundles of the flowers, give a few to Mom (they were always dead and closed up the next morning) then we’d make necklaces and bracelets and rings. When my daughters were younger, they brought me “bouquets” like I’d brought my mom. I taught them how to make chains with the stems. We talked about great-grandma making her infamous dandelion wine. My grandma picked the tender, young leaves for fresh spring salad. One little plant…so many memories. So yeah, I’m a little resistant to weed n’ feed.
And why yes, we are the most popular neighbors in our ‘hood with our beautiful patches of yellow, which then turn into stems, crowned with white puff balls that are so fun to make a wish on and blow, scattering those secret wishes borne on a single tiny seed into the four winds
So…dandelions. Weed or flower? Love ‘em or hate ‘em?
I’m tossing responses in the gardening hat and giving a $15 gift card to the winners online bookstore of choice!