And there were so many of them! We spent hours picking the flowers and then popping the blossoms off with a snap of our fingers. But the supply of dandelions never ran out. My father or brothers would chop off all the heads with the lawn mower at least once a week, but that didn't stop these hardy wonders.
The soft, round puffs of a dandelion gone to seed caused endless giggles and squeals of delight as we unwittingly spread this flower across the yard.
...I marveled at the flower that some call a weed. And I thought, "If only I had the staying power of a dandelion." If only I could stretch my roots so deep and straight that something tugging on my stem couldn't separate me completely from the source that feeds me life. If only I could come back to face the world with a bright, sunshiny face after someone has run me over with a lawnmower or worse, purposely attacked me in an attempt to destroy me. If only I could spread love and encouragement as freely and fully as this flower spreads seeds of itself.
The lawns at my parents' home are now beautiful green blankets. The only patches of color come from well-placed, well-controlled flowerbeds. Chemicals have managed to kill what human persistence couldn't.I hope you and I can be different. I hope that we can stretch our roots deep enough that the strongest poison can't reach our souls.
I hope that we can see flowers in a world that sees weeds."
- Donna Doyon, Lessons from a Dandelion