By Guardian of the Galaxy
"Gardening is the handiest excuse for being a philosopher. Nobody guesses, nobody accuses, nobody knows, but there you are, Plato in the peonies, Socrates force-growing his own hemlock. A man toting a sack of blood manure across his lawn is kin to Atlas letting the world spin easy on his shoulder."
Grandpa Spaulding in Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Parts of my lawn have been fairly consumed by the ubiquitous dandelion.
The dandelion is by far the best weed for evoking memories of childhood. As a child I loved a dandelion. One puff filled the air with paratroopers. I have made certain my own sons experienced this small joy as well.
On Mother's Day my young sons and I spent a part of the morning tending to the weeds. When the boys were expending more energy in feigning exhaustion than in weeding, I sent them to play and turned my attention to another flower bed and the dandelions.
I have found pulling to be the most effective system of weed removal. Sprays are available, but I want the roots out. During this simple task of lawn maintenance it is possible to approach Zen. During this time I also tend to pull the weeds from the landscape of my mind.
Please don't feel sorry for me when I tell you I remember little of my father but know that I never loved him. He was an abusive alcoholic who drank himself to death before he was 35.
I was dressing for school one morning when he came home, put his wine in the refrigerator and went to bed. My sisters and I scurried out of the house. Sometime during the day he died of acute pancreatitis, a common malady of alcoholics. I was 8. I didn’t cry at the news. I was relieved.
The common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) has been cultivated for food, herbs and tea for centuries, but we consider them weeds. The plant is native to Europe, but North American Indian tribes have traditionally used the dandelion for food and medicine.
Weeks after the funeral came the realization that my mother was ill-equipped to raise four young children (the oldest was 9) by herself. We were for a time farmed out to acquaintances.
My older sister went to stay with Janet, whose family owned the dress shop on main street. My younger sisters stayed together at Aunt Mildred's farm. There were horses to ride there. Mildred was not really our aunt. I stayed with Jerry, whose father was the sheriff. They lived in a house next to the jail.
When we were reunited we learned that my mother had been busy looking in other towns for better work and affordable living arrangements but had been unsuccessful. Bills went unpaid as we lapsed deeper into poverty. Finally the Methodist minister offered a plan.
Dandelion leaves form a rosette above the central taproot. As the leaves grow outward they compact surrounding vegetation (my grass!) and kill it by cutting off the sunlight. A bright yellow flower head opens in the daytime but closes at night.
When we visited the Methodist Children's Home, great grey oaks bent to the ground, their mosses hanging like damp laundry. One border of the campus was formed by the St. John's River, where cypress sunned their gnarled knees.
A social worker showed us around. A softball field was alive with a game. Kids were racing around the skating rink, riding bicycles, splashing in the pool.
A church bell sounded and the kids disappeared. Chimes echoed around the campus until the bell rang again fifteen minutes later.
The kids marched from their cottages in columns of two, singing one hymn or another as they made their way to the dining hall. When they had all assembled on the lawn of the dining hall, the kids took up another song in unison and marched to their places inside.
The flower of a dandelion matures into a globe of fine filaments that are easily distributed by wind. The seed-containing achenes are carried on the breeze.
We were installed in The Home in the middle of my third grade year. My youngest sister was not yet in kindergarten.
This globe is called the "dandelion clock," and kids the world-over gleefully blow it apart. In German it's called a Pusteblume ("blow flower"). The number of blows required to rid the clock of its seeds is supposed to be dependent on the time of day.
There was always something to do, someone with whom to talk. Most of us were products of broken homes or victims of circumstance. None of us was unaware of the stigma attached to being from The Home.
We arrived at school and church on the big yellow bus marked "Children's Home." On Friday or Saturday nights we were delivered to the movie or skating rink in that great yellow bus. We ate school lunches by paying with a voucher from The Home.
The name "dandelion" is from the Old French, dent-de-lion, literally "lion's tooth", denoting the sharply-lobed leaves.
In Norwegian, the dandelion is called Løvetann, which is also translated as "lion's tooth." In modern French the plant is called pissenlit, which means "urinate in bed", probably referring to its diuretic properties. (The things one can learn from Wikipedia!)
By the beginning of my 6th grade year my siblings and I had been reunited with our mother. She had remarried.
My stepfather was prone to anger and violence.
By the beginning of my eighth grade year we found ourselves classified as "wards of the court" and were again placed in the Home.
Dandelions are grown commercially as a leaf vegetable. The plant can be eaten cooked or raw in various forms, in soup or salad. They are probably closest in taste and texture to mustard greens. Usually the young leaves and unopened buds are eaten raw in salads, while older leaves are cooked. The leaves are high in vitamin A, vitamin C and iron, carrying more iron and calcium than spinach.
Some of my former friends were still in the care of The Home when we returned. Others had been reunited with their families or placed in foster homes or adopted. Because of such unpredictability, relationships were tenuous. We could not count on a friend today being there tomorrow. Nor could we count on the constancy of our dorm parents, as the realities of economics and life in general dictated movement.
There was only one constant: There was always a game. There were always teams at the ready for baseball, football, basketball, or softball. We escaped into games each day until it got too dark to see or until someone made us stop playing.
Dandelion flowers can be used to make dandelion wine. Recipes often contain citrus as well. The wines rely on other fruits such as raisins to add body. There are dandelion jams. Ground roasted dandelion root is used as a coffee substitute that is believed to stimulate digestion.
Many of our activities were supervised by an activity coordinator. Many others were not. I relished weekends and summers when "recreation counselors" were paid to supervise and interact with the kids. They were usually college students. Other times church groups would visit. Occasionally adults would donate their time to teach crafts or skills. I had the good fortune of having received attention from some of them. They taught me the games and skills, but the good ones taught me about growing up, taught me about life, taught me about me. The really good ones also listened.
Dandelion root is a registered drug in some countries and sold as a diuretic. An elixir can be made to detoxify the liver, and for the treatment of anemia and jaundice. The milk is believed to repel mosquitoes and is used as a topical wart-removal treatment.
Do not feel sorry for me. My time in the Home is part of me and most of it was, in a convoluted way, a joy.
I share this story so that you understand that kids in such institutions are not necessarily delinquent. Many kids of such circumstance become delinquent, but I was one of the lucky ones. I hear unpleasant stories about former friends, and I understand. The trauma of prolonged separation or abandonment can scar deeply. But I was one of the lucky ones. Some adults showed an interest in me, encouraged me, kindled in me a love of games, a love of learning, and a love of life. Those adults were extraordinary interventions who may have saved the life of a child.
Residents of Minneapolis celebrate Dandelion Days each May. The event is inspired by the story of how Harriet Godfrey, formerly of Maine, missed the little yellow flower so much that she had a friend mail her seeds. In doing so, she introduced the dandelion to Minnesota.
We all give what we can to charity without knowing if it will make a difference. Consider giving some of your time to a child. It will make a difference. Consider the opportunity to have a profound effect on the life of a child. If you don’t know where to look, I can give you a little push in the right direction:
The Florida United Methodist Children’s Home: None ever stand so tall as when they stoop to help a child.
Rodeheaver Boy’s Ranch, Palatka, Florida: It's better to build boys than to mend men.
The Florida Sheriff's Youth Ranches: Mending hearts and saving lives.
The Children's Home and Sheriff's Youth Ranches are parts of national organizations. There might just be one near you. Drive by and drop off some balls or used clothing or an old bike. Talk with one of the kids. You'll both be glad you did.
You will find some recipes for dandelion wine, salad, syrup and cooked dandelion greens and a pleasant little story here.
I think I got that one out by the roots. It's time to move on to the next flower bed. Before I go, please remember: You, too, can be the extraordinary intervention in the life of a child.
For more of his sports and science work you may find him here.
