Dandelions. Dent de Lion (lion's tooth, sharp & scary). A life force that isn't desired, like sin, or maybe unrequited love, a nuisance that persists. . .
The term weed is subjective, generally unwanted in human-controlled settings, dandelions stomp in every morning.
Like love, lust or sin, for some, the dandelion feels near impossible to control. It invades us & strips us of those civilized controlled environments we may think we desire.
DANDELIONS is also the title of a story I've been working on - rampant with weeds, human sin, and possibly even poetry. On the weekend, I was eradicating my yard of dandelions and rewrote the opening lines:
On the morning of the party, Mrs. Goodman was kneeling in the shadiest garden bed, yanking dandelions--each extraction more vehement and savage than the last.
From across the way, Heidi kept one blue lazy eye on Sarah Goodman. At first, Heidi didn't think anything of it, but later she realized that it was at that moment: everything fell into place. . .
Read an excerpt from Dandelions here
It's that time of year: some of us wonder while others wander.
In French, we call dandelions pissenlit (piss in the bed) Garden beds or lovers' beds? [I wonder]
At the mercy of nature, no matter how we try to fool ourselves, our attempts to master nature--whether our personal natures, or mother nature--are all for naught. . .
. . .Except in poetry:
The First Dandelion.
Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close
As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics,
had ever been,
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass--
innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,
The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful
Have a great week everyone!