It’s happening again; it’s the same every spring and summer. I am confronted with the Great Dandelion Dilemma. I am reluctant to chase them from my lawn, these tiny replicas of the sun, small cushions of yellow and gold rising from the green. What if they are really a blessing instead of a curse, a feast instead of pestilence, like manna from heaven, an abundant harvest for which we have not sown? Each time I pick up my paring knife to dig them up, my intent is diverted by memories of past “dandelion days” of summer.
Sometimes, on hot and lazy summer afternoons, my friends and I would spread an old blanket on the grass under a shade tree. Next, we carefully searched the fringe areas of the lawn, garden, and nearby ditch banks for our elusive treasures–dandelions with long stems! Giggling and gushing over each new find, we eventually returned to our blanket, arms loaded, to divide the booty. We would then spend the rest of the afternoon creating and modeling bracelets, anklets, necklace chains, ear loops and crowns of golden flowers. Dandelion jewelry is always in fashion.
Luxurious carpets of sunshine yellow spread over large pastures still entice the soles of my bare feet, tempting me to relive the summertime barefoot forays through my uncle Clyde’s pasture. I also remember that calloused soles do not guarantee protection from the dangers of dandelion collecting. Tragically oblivious to each other until it was too late, I was often stung by flattened unsuspecting honeybees. It was, however, an accepted risk of dancing barefoot on a dandelion dance floor.
I set down my paring knife as another memory settles in beside me. “I picked these just for you.” Generosity and pride spread over the smudged little face, the sunshine smile beaming through the wilting bouquet. Small hands, grass and dandelion-stained offered a treasure that is more valuable than pure gold.
Another image floats by on a tiny parachute released from the fluffy white globe next to me. I see my toddlers, cheeks puffed out, lips pursed, learning how to blow away the little seedlings, like blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Giggling and squealing, they chased the small parachutes around the yard until they could no longer see them. Then, upon discovering another of these magical globes, they would repeat the process.
My paring knife poised again, I’m tempted to select some young dandelion greens to add to my dinner salad. They are, after all, high in vitamins and minerals and are still prized for their medicinal qualities, especially as a diuretic and tonic. Even the roots can be dried and ground for a coffee substitute. In fact, I recently ran across several dandelion recipes from a 1925 ladies’ magazine. The list of recipes includes a dandelion salad, dandelion crowns with cream sauce, sautéed dandelions with melted butter, tart cooked greens with vinegar, dandelions with tomato sauce, and more—a veritable feast!
Perhaps it is in our perspective, after all. Dandelions are sunny companions, faithful and generous, with hearts that fly and roots that grow deep. How fickle we are to desire flowers in our gardens that require coaxing, fertilizer and pesticides, and that we call by fancy names and who often have thorns!
Looking across my lawn again, I see a friendly field of dandelions inviting barefoot pleasures, a treasure house of happy memories and epicurean delights. I take up my paring knife again. Now, where did I put that recipe for dandelion wine?