Monday, April 29, 2013


Dandelions. They are a flower that many see as weeds. But I've often wondered that if they weren't so familiar to us, if a dandelion sprouting in a field was a rare occurence, would we not prize them as something even higher than roses? Would botanists not cross continents to study them? Would gardeners not try to cultivate them? Would children not even be more astonished with just a puff of breath sending a host of white seeds forth to unknown lands as distant as the wind? Would the yellow swabbed on the throat be even a greater enjoyment? Would a pasture of them not cause us to stand astonished at how the sun came down and incarnated itself into the flora of a field?

(For my friend, Samantha, who recognizes dandelions for the delight they were meant to be.)