these precious things

Photo courtesy of Steve Humber

This humble weed is currently my daughter’s favorite, favorite flower. Her daddy picks lofty bouquets of these for her on their nightly walks. And not the golden dandies, noooooo, they must be the puffballs. Fancy that. Actually, they are elegant, in a silvery moonlight sort of way.

When I was a kid, I would lug about a big paper bag and traipse around my grandfather’s huge yard, plucking the tops off of the golden weeds for his dandelion wine. I have read that they taste delicious deep fried in batter, but in this prevalent age of Roundup, I’d have to find some rare earth before I gave it a try.


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