“You cannot forget, if you would, those golden kisses all over the cheeks of the meadow, queerly called dandelions.” – Henry Ward Beecher
I think a dandelion blooming on a manicured lawn is perfect. — Photo by Pat Bean
For Weedy Brains
There’s something in me that loves dandelions. Perhaps it is their cheery yellow petals that glimmer in the sun. Or maybe it’s their fragile, snow-like seeds that scatter after those petals have vanished. I’ve long tried to capture that fanciful seed-blown storm in a sketches –- but always without success.
And I marvel at the miracle of rebirth that occurs when the golden orb has turned to snowy seeds. — Photo by Pat Bean
I enjoy seeing a meadow of dandelions lightning up the side of a hill. But even more I enjoy seeing a single dandelion poking on a manicured lawn. Such imperfection speaks to my heart because it makes the imperfect perfect.
I think I must have weeds growing in my brain. But that’s OK. I’ll water them anyway.
A Few More Weedy Thoughts
“A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows.” – Doug Lawson
“Roses are red, violets are blue; But they don’t get around, like the dandelions do.” — Slim Acres
“Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.” — A.A. Milne
“What would the world be, once bereft of wet and wildness? Let them be left … Long live the weeds and the wildness yet.” – Gerard Manley Hopkins
Blog pick of the day.
Bean Pat: The Iris and the Lily http://tinyurl.com/qd9kqby Step outside and take a walk through your garden . Or check out the Ghost Bear Photography, http://tinyurl.com/k8a88d7 if you’re more ambitious. Nearby or far away, Mother Nature awes us.
Pat Bean's blog 
I find it hard to consider the dandelion as a weed. The grounds always look beautiful to me when littered with its yellow flowers.
I love dent’ Dr Leona. Never mind! Auto correct won’t let me type what I want to!
Thanks Sam
I liked dandelions as a kid. They were natures toys, as were lightning bugs, honey suckles and searching for 4 leaf clovers. Such and innocent time. I don’t think many kids get to experience that now.
While I don’t believe that the good old days were all good, and love my internet highway, I feel sorry for today’s kids, the ones who don’t get to taste honeysuckle straight from the vine, or gather fireflies in a jar only to let them go before being called in for bed, or to gather with neighborhood kids and climb trees and play cowboys and Indians. I see my own grandchildren missing these things and I feel sad.