Dandelion Seeds.

May has been a super month for dandelions. Lots of councils, gardeners (including me) and just people in general are realising how important the bright yellow wildflower is for emerging queen bees and other insects. Wildlife charities are encouraging 'No mow May', and asking people to leave their grass, and see what wildflowers come through. When I do cut my grass, I now mow around the dandelions, and I certainly never use any nasty poisons on 'weeds'. Any I don't want, say on the driveway, I just pull up by hand.

I read somewhere that once people planted dandelions instead of lawns, and they were used in medicines, drinks, eaten as food, and taken for their high vitamin content. You can eat every part of a dandelion, apparently, but I confess, I have yet to try that.

My daughter just loves to pick the seeded heads, and blow or wave them, watching the seeds spread in the wind. They look like little fairies to me. I often wonder where the seeds end up, and how many of them are actually successful and end up growing into adult plants. And how do the little seeds 'know' what to do?

I wrote this poem, inspired by the flight of the seeds.

Dandelion Seeds

A perfect halo.

A fragile structure

With every seed kept in

Individual holding slots.

Proud pom poms

Decorate rough ground,

Overgrown gardens,

Cracked pavements.

A million chances to start again

Far away.

Carried like little fairies in the breeze

On a feathery parachute,

Transporting instinct and purpose.

It's caught on rough soil,

Someone's lawn,

A driveway,

A dry stone wall.

The little dagger seed

Shuffles and moves

Until it's embedded.

Secrets are whispered from the parent plant,

Giving instructions

And encouraging pale new tendrils

To explore the darkness.