You must have been the first flower I knew by name. I remember making crowns of your blossoms, and wishing on your seeds, as my breath against their feathery parachutes launched them to unknown adventures.
Growing up, I didn’t know your properties or constituents, or that you could nourish and support. But you were always welcome in our yard, because you’re cheerful and friendly, and we’re all better off with more cheer and more friendship.
Now, I can’t get enough of you. Every time I see dandelions pop up where they’re unwelcome – without angst, or resentment, or any ill feelings – I’m filled with hope at the sight of such good-natured tenacity.
When people pull you up and throw you away – or poison you – I think they must be mad. A lawn without dandelions looks bereft. Don’t they know how you can help our bodies take up nutrients and let go of toxins? Don’t they know how tasty you are? Don’t they know you’ll come back anyway?
I made a lot of wishes last year, and I’m watching them come up already. You’re the first flower that’s bloomed in my yard this spring, in a crack between front stoop and driveway. I’m enjoying chai brewed with last year’s roots. I’m looking forward to my first salad with dandelion greens, and I think I’ll pick some tomorrow.
Yours always, with many thanks,
PS: I’ll vote for you. #dandelionlove