Tis dandelion season and I'll admit: I love the little buggers. Their fuzzy, cheery yellow faces, the long, thick milky stalks, and their resilience--they can pop up in the damndest places. When we've had months of dead brown grass and piles of snow, something about those happy yellow flowers makes me smile. Seeing an entire clearing of dandelions takes me back to my childhood. We'd comb the ditches, pick bundles of the flowers, give a few to Mom (they were always dead and closed up the next morning) then we'd make necklaces and bracelets and rings. When my daughters were younger, they brought me "bouquets" like I'd brought my mom. I taught them how to make chains with the stems. We talked about great-grandma making her infamous dandelion wine. One little weed...so many memories. So yeah, I'm a little resistant to weed n' feed.
So...dandelions. Weed or flower? Love 'em or hate 'em?