Dandelion Blossoms + Not Missing the Good Stuff

How a little yellow “weed” makes me question everything

“She’s going on and on about dandelions again.”

That’s what I imagine people say and think when I begin my usual monologue about how backwards I think it is that some people spray their lawns with herbicide specifically to kill dandelions, and then flock to the health food store to buy expensive and exotic dandelion tea. “It’s a marker of how blind we are to what is provided for us and to what is good for us,” I lament regularly.

I genuinely don’t know what dandelions ever did to anybody to deserve such mistreatment. The plant is incredible and honestly, inspiring — it survives the coldest winters, finds its way to the light through concrete pavers, reproduces abundantly, and spreads its seed on the wind. Not only is every part edible, from the root to the blossoms, this perfect little gift from the heavens also supports our liver and kidneys (among many other health benefits), makes delicious syrup, and colors hillsides during Spring. And is there any more perfect image of childlike joy than a toddler blowing the seeds of a dandelion seed head to spread the seeds far and wide (another sign of a Divine sense of humor, if you ask me)?

Dandelions don’t ask anything of us, except not to kill them with poison, and to harvest them when we need to. In the early Spring, when the hungry gap is about to hit (where root cellar food stores are running low and the garden hasn’t kicked into gear yet), the dandelion wakes up and provides us with necessary vitamins and minerals in the form of tender green leaves. People around this part of the world woke me up to this incredible and timely gift. For a few weeks, dandelion (regrat in Slovene) greens are brought up in almost every conversation. About a month ago, I went on a walk with a friend who packed a bag and a knife, just in case she came across some. Then a few weeks later, I went down to the farm I’m working at to plant some seedlings, and another neighbor was roaming the fields, collecting his basket of greens “before they bloomed”. Usually, they’re served chopped in a potato and boiled egg salad, with pumpkin seed oil and vinegar. It’s seriously delicious, and it packs a hit of nutrients as well. I start craving this salad at the start of every Spring season. My body seems to know that it’s good for me, and the abundance of it is thrilling.

After the greens have nourished us, these generous plants produce a beautiful and fluffy, bright yellow flower that the bees go crazy for. Those bees then go back to their hives and produce honey, which we enjoy all year (bringing us even more health and happiness). But the blossoms themselves are treats to be cherished and enjoyed. After the primroses and violets have retired, and we’ve put away a small jar of dried flowers for a special winter tea, the dandelion flowers are next on our list for harvesting. My girls usually take on this job as well, since it’s easy and satisfying. The result is a big basket of fluffy flowers, which we dehydrate. It’s immensely rewarding to fill our tea jars with the dried yellow flowers. My mother-in-law makes a delicious dandelion syrup with oranges that we enjoy through the summer, and there are countless recipes online for fritters, cookies, breads, and more.

In the Fall, the plant can be dug up and the root washed and roasted for another incredible tea to support our immune systems and general health throughout the cold months. And we don’t even have to worry about killing the plant, because as every perfect-green-lawn obsessed suburbanite knows, they will always come back again next year — especially if your children spent a decent amount of time blowing the seed heads all over the place. The yard will be covered in heavy snow to sleep for the season, and the cycle will start up again in early Spring, right when we need it to.

I love dandelions so much that I almost tattooed one on my forearm. I went for chamomile instead, but I’ve got another forearm and I’m still thinking about it. Right now, in this part of the world, the hills are just covered in them. It’s completely magnificent from far away, and even more so up close when you watch the honeybees do their Good Work, buzzing from fluffy blossom to fluffy blossom. Sometimes I sit and watch them buzz around for hours, and my mind wanders, as it is prone to do when I’m observing something as beautiful as a fuzzy bee on a fuzzy flower.

I understand that in this modern world, and perhaps in worlds gone by as well, we think we know what we want in life. We have to-do lists (guilty), manifestation boards, lists of goals and dreams (so, so guilty), and we’re constantly reaching for what’s next. There’s nothing wrong with striving, dreaming, planning, or working towards something — you know me by now — but I think we can get so caught up in what we think we want, based on a variety of influences, and we end up missing the thing that we might need.

It’s the metaphorical perfect, immaculate, tidy green lawn, you know? It looks really beautiful in pictures, neighbors have lawn envy, it communicates social and financial status, and it is the goal (and sometimes requirement) of many neighborhoods. For all intents and purposes, we are supposed to want this. So some people work hard to achieve this goal, spending hours pulling “weeds”, mowing perfect straight lines and edges, taking pride in their hard work, employing people to manage it for them when they can’t do it themselves, and cursing each and every dandelion that disrupts their vision for their lives. And then, when they’re really desperate to realize that vision of the perfect lawn, they somehow justify dumping poison all over their backyards, causing all kinds of harm to their own bodies and the bodies of animals and insects. In trying to achieve the perfect lawn, they miss the gifts provided in the form of dandelions, nettles, clover, wild thyme, and more.

It’s also the metaphorical perfect, thin, fit, impossibly young-looking, despite having babies body. This one has plagued me for years. It also looks great in pictures, other women have body envy, it communicates some form of status, and it’s the goal for so, so many women. We work like dogs to look a certain way, spending a fortune on fitness programs, skincare, bouncing back from baby, cursing every stretch mark, cellulite dimple, gained pound, and wrinkle. And when we’re really desperate, we take extreme measures to look the way we want to. But my extra-large hips post-partum and soft belly provided the perfect energy reserve and soft spot for my babies to snuggle — those were my dandelions, among many more. I was so focused on what I thought I was supposed to look like that I missed the truth. And as a result, I missed a lot of the joy. Maybe your dandelions looked different, but you definitely have them. We all do.

Most days I think I know what I want in life, but what if I’m so blinded by my desires that I am missing the truth, the moments, the sweetness all around me? What if I’m pointing entirely in the wrong direction because of my dogged wish to realize my vision for myself? What is influencing my dreams and goals? Are they sincere? Are they actually valuable? What am I missing that is valuable?

The dandelion isn’t a dahlia. I don’t cultivate it or carefully dig up the tubers to keep from freezing and rotting over the winter. I don’t stake it, deadhead it to keep the blooms coming, pinch off the first shoot, or fill vases with its beautiful blooms. But when I stop and look closely at a dandelion, it’s as valuable as a dahlia to me. It’s as precious, and its jagged leaves as relevant to my wellbeing as any other beautiful, celebrated flower. I think the key to understanding this is to really look at a dandelion plant — to watch the bees interact with it (what wisdom they possess) and to feel the fluffy petals between your fingertips. A basket full of dandelion blooms is as beautiful a sight as a bouquet of peonies, and the benefits of it last immeasurably longer.

I guess the point of this whole thing is that I think rather than stopping to smell the fancy roses all the time, we should stop to observe the dandelion, and in doing so, we could ask ourselves these questions:

• What am I missing in my life that is already beautiful, strong, and full of Goodness?

• What is actually good for me in life?

• When I stop chasing my goals for a moment and notice, what speaks to me?

• And what is it saying?

• Why do I want what I want? Should I want it?

• What am I missing in the process of trying to achieve it?

• What am I sacrificing in the process of trying to achieve it?

And of course…

• Have I harvested (non-sprayed) dandelion blossoms for tea yet this year?

Openness and humility, I suppose, are the qualities we need to embody to notice things like the ridiculously wonderful qualities of dandelions, from root to floating, flying seed. But also to make sure we’re not so focused on what we think we want, that we miss what we already have or what we might truly need. Unsurprisingly, dandelions are also open and humble and we can learn a lot from them.

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Dandelion Life Lesson

Big dreams and goals are wonderful things, but we should never let them grow so consuming that we miss (or even harm) the humble yet valuable things in our lives. Chase success and achieve all that you can, but don’t overlook the goodness and the importance that comes in the form of the small, unflashy things, like dinners together around the table every night, someone you can count on, internal health, a soft-post partum body, or a yard full of dandelions to harvest for tea. The good stuff is all around.