I could aspire to be a rose, regal and lovely, scented or not, with thorns at the ready to keep others at bay. Some would choose to be a daisy, cheerful and sweet bringing joy in massive bouquets. Others may wish to be a sprig of lavender, beautifully colored and lavishly fragranced, calming senses and inspiring dreams.
As for me, I can't quite shake the notion of the common dandelion and it's unashamed golden glory. Some may see a mere weed but I see much more.
I see a perennial plant that never gives up, keeps coming back. A deeply rooted specimen of vegetation that is, as we have all no doubt experienced, difficult to exterminate. A plant whose petals open with the morning sun and close with the blanket of evening day. A gathering of faith.
Its tender leaves are used for nourishment in salads, sauteed or steamed while the milky, white sap of the stem has been known to soothe bee stings and blisters. Undoubtedly a useful piece of greenery as it readies itself to turn to seed. A collection of hope.
The golden flower head can change into the white, globular seed head overnight. Each seed has a tiny parachute that spreads far and wide in the wind. An orb of potential. A child's innocent wish. A scattering of love.
"A weed is just a plant whose virtues have yet been discovered." Ralph Waldo Emerson
WELCOME to a dandelion diary. A space to find beauty in the ordinary, blessing in the extraordinary...