Over the weekend, I went to my mother’s house to make sure the grill was ready for our Mother’s Day BBQ. It hadn’t been used since last Father’s Day, so we went there with fingers crossed.


Upon walking into the yard, lo and behold, there were dandelions everywhere. Naturally, since the publication of my book, The Dandelion’s Tale, the sight of these yellow-topped weeds have been cause for celebration. The two pictured above sprouted up at the base of the last tree in the yard. I started to think of the things that happened around that tree when I was growing up. When my cat, Priscilla was a kitten, she somehow climbed up the tree and got stuck on a branch, meowing her head off. My heart lodged in my throat when she decided to take flight, somehow landing on her feet, unharmed.

People sitting under that tree have been pooped on by birds and had things dropped on them by squirrels. I even buried a few hamsters there. I’ve sat under the shade of that tree for countless family parties and outdoor dinners. I played with my Star Wars figures, pretending the foliage around the tree was a foreign planet.

There are tales to tell right where those dandelion’s are growing. I wonder if they can tap into those memories that have become one with the earth.