An Ode to Dandelions

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.


About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
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4 Responses to An Ode to Dandelions

  1. tempusflits says:

    I love the dandelion. In spring, my mom would harvest their leaves and boil them for the vegetable part of a meal. Now, I collect the leaves to use in spring salads. And just this spring, I learned to make dandelion syrup, which is made from the blossoms and is very, very good. But you’re right, it’s cheerful, sunny face may be its best feature.

    • vanyieck says:

      My father-in-law swears to the health benefits of dandelion tea. On my last visit he served me a cup. It had a pleasant taste as well.

  2. As a child, I called them flowers and was invited to feel dumb for not calling them weeds. As an adult I ‘knew’ them for weeds and thought myself smarter. As whatever-I-am-now, I know them for what they are and I know that I was closer to the truth as a child than I was as a young adult calling them weeds. This same learning-unlearning-relearning process has played out over and over again endlessly. I am relearning everything. The kids that I work with (reading grouops) seem to me much smarter than most of the adults I’ve encountered in life – I interpret the reason being they have not done as much false learning. To be in search of something seems smarter to me than to have found the wrong thing and not know it.

  3. diane says:

    You’re right; they are cheerful! Remember how we all played with them as children (at least I think we all did this) – picking them for our mothers; blowing the seeds around. The wild daisies are here now, too – not as hardy but just as cheerful.

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