They come as love offerings clasped in grubby little hands. They adorn
kitchen windows in jelly jars where they quickly morph into green pods of
silver feathers.



If the fluffy heads are carefully picked they can be blown like bubbles that
travel on the breeze. Even among little boys, four out of five of them are
able to successfully blow dandelion fluff. There is always that one boy who
thinks you are offering him something to eat. The bitter milk and the fluff
that clings to the inside of cheeks and to the tongue just cannot be spit
out. It must be gently scooped away by a mother?s finger with new
instructions on how to blow.



Once when I was trying to deny that I was premenstrual I stood with my hands
on my hips, gazing out my window. The grass was long and the dandelions were
full of fluff. Harrumph, there are three grown men living in this house, why
isn?t that lawn mown yet? But wait, what is this? The dandelions are
dancing? No, it is not the dandelions but little yellow birds feeding on the
fluff. Sudden attitude change. Moving ever so slowly I reached for the
binoculars near the window.



Joy!



There was a banquette in my overgrown backyard that was so much prettier
then any mown lawn could ever be. Flitting from stem to stem was the entire,
extended family of Goldfinches. The rare bird found a feast in my unkept
yard.



I hope that when I die my babies, babies will remember me when they teach
their babies the joy of dandelions. And just maybe, if they should visit my
grave, there will be jelly jars of love left in remembrance of me.





Deb of Ray & Deb Fame

Robe Valley in Washington

42psalm01 at foxinternet.com



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