The dandelions are in bloom. All over the city bright yellow flowers bring color to a landscape overwhelmed by concrete gray and brown brick. Soon enough tulips and daffodils will emerge followed by roses of every conceivable variety. Yet the dandelions bloom on.
I have already witnessed gardeners, armed with weeding devices liberate their lawns from the Spring dandelion invasion. The pesky weeds seem to will their existence in spite of their negative reputations. They spread profusely, managing to root in the most unlikeliest of places, the tiniest cracks and crevices of the city. Dandelions, despite decades of frenzied opposition and countless methods of eradication, have managed to thrive everywhere it’s marvelous little seeds have traveled. And how seductive are those puffy white blooms. They urge us to release their seeds to dance in the breeze.
Perhaps I’m a bit naïve, but I admire this determined little flower. It maintains a bright, cheerful demeanor even under the most hostile conditions. In sunshine or rain, the it always blooms. Few things in life are as reliable as the dandelion. I appreciate the dandelion. It sprinkles the landscape with drips of sunshine, like little beacons of wild hope within our urban jungle.