When the aging dandelion curls up, transferring its remaining essence into seeds, does it know why? It is dying, but unlike most flowers, it does not simply wilt or wither, alone and forgotten. It does not fearfully retreat into the same earth it has always known. The deteriorated one becomes a flourishing many. The dandelion transforms into something new, something equally beautiful, something with a purpose spreading far and wide.
Did they intend to catch the eye of children across the globe, to enable us to dream? To blow a wish on dandelion seeds – to chase after them – to imagine them flittering our wish far away where it can be granted – was that relationship planned? Such a tradition is mutually beneficial; the seeds float on the wind to grow into new dandelions elsewhere and repeat the process. If a dandelion seed could dream, it would come true when a human plucks its mother’s corpse from the earth and whisks it away to a new home, one where it can live without limitation or worry. While the child may not gain anything tangible from the experience, that’s not why we tell them to do so. Simple joy is reward enough.
They often grow in groups, assorted clusters of yellow blossoms. A single dandelion creates several seeds that travel together – one could call them family. Dandelions don’t need to grow in tandem, but they choose to. Maybe they enjoy the companionship of others; maybe they thrive better united rather than alone. Siblings develop and learn together before sharing their knowledge elsewhere. Somehow, our destinies aligned. We’ve become involved in their lives beyond afar admiration, if not vital.
Were they aware of childish wonder, developing specifically for us? Or did we grow together, our symbiotic relationship, our fulfillment of dreams? The dandelion is short and small with a thin stem, easy to tear, advertising bright white fluff to catch the eye of young humans when it is ready to move on. The human takes deep breaths and fires powerful exhales compared to a flower’s tiny offspring, with an unquenchable curiosity that is uniquely our own. A bond that rarely happens between plants and animals, a perfect fit that can’t exist in any form; as no other animal is daring enough to exhale its desires into the hopeful flower, and no other plant is faithful enough to know its plan would work.
A dandelion patch growing in a garden may be seen as weeds, nuisances among your fruits and vegetables, which provide you no benefit. Perhaps, they are saying hello in their own way, however; perhaps they were taught by their ancestors that a human would make their wish come true, as we are taught by ours. Perhaps, they trust you with this sacred exchange, politely requesting a wish to take far away and give the gift of rebirth. Perhaps, you remember a child in your heart, a child who remembers how to dream, and choose to accept the offer.
