“Every year,” said Grandfather. “They run amuck; I let them. Pride of lions in the yard. Stare, and they will burn a hole in your retina. A common flower, a weed that no one sees, yes. But for us, a noble thing, the dandelion.”
–Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
Oh Agnes, won’t you go with me? We’ll be married in style
And we’ll cross Lake Michigan, so blue and so wide,
We’ll cross over Lake Michigan, ’til we come to the shore,
And our orchards will blossom for our babies as they’re born.
–From the song “Lovely Agnes” by Sally Rogers
To me, it is inconceivable to be wanting to rid my lawn of dandelions (although this here is actually a pasture).
What beauty can be found in the neat, uniform, mediocre greenness?
I say, none whatsoever!
Dandelion, the rightful king of the yard, the force of nature itself. It is not shy to point out that it was here before we came and will be here long after we are gone. It’s hard to argue with the dandelion’s birthright.
The golden fairy dust, scattered all over the land.
First apple blossoms. When Jacob and I first met, I mentioned to him that I’d always dreamed of an apple orchard and wondered whether it was difficult to care for one. “Hopefully,” he said, “you won’t be doing it alone.” It sounded like a faint promise, a hint at a future together.
My dream vision also included at least one “pie” cherry because they blossom so beautifully and because they make the best varenie, Russian-style preserves. So for my first Mother’s Day, Jacob planted this cherry tree for me.
It is the same age as this little one… who is not so little anymore!