Another great Friday night...
another long Saturday trying to explain.
tenacious: -adjective; holding fast, persistent, stubborn, or obstinate
temerity: –noun; reckless boldness, rashness
I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to appreciating nature. I guess that makes me a nature freak. I love snow, and I cheer when I see the oft and much maligned dandelions.
I love dandelions.
Let me say that again, just for sake of clarity. I love dandelions! I love that cheerful mustardy yellow, and I love that they don't take no for an answer. Their tenacious temerity speaks to my inner gypsy. Loudly.
This past week we've had pretty much every kind of weather, apart from tropical, that we could ask for. All in one day we've had frost, cold rain, hail, snow, sunshine, and wind. I wake up in the morning and look outside... the grass is already green. The field is a sea of frost-besparkled green. Two hours later, the frost is gone and the field is entirely pocked with dandelion yellow - that yellow that screams sunshine on the most cloudy day. Dandelions don't tiptoe in. They arrive on the scene decked out like a brazen hussy. They've got strut. They don't care what anyone thinks of them. They'll come to the party just as they are.
I like that. I really like that.
And I like that they're fighters. I had a neighbor who was a Dandelion Nazi. Seriously. I swear he was out to completely eradicate yellow from the world. He would walk every inch of his yard a couple times a day, and as soon as he saw one of those yellow heads, he'd dig it up by the root and toss it in the trash.
But, they kept coming back. I know they were sneering, and it made me smile. I can get behind a like-it-or-not-here-I-am attitude.
They're tenacious little things. Even after a death-grip winter, they come charging back in full force, unstoppable. That resonates with me. I can relate. I'm a dandelion of sorts. I've taken what the Universe has thrown my way, and not only have I not been cowed (at least not for long), I've gone ahead and thrived just for spite. And I think that, like it or not, I've turned into something that brings color, brash and garish though it may be, to the world. I think I've turned into something that says, "Say what you will, this is who I am, and I'm here. Appreciate me or weed me out - your choice. I'll stand either way."
And that's why I love dandelions. They're my flora familiar.
it might be
kids growing weed-like to manhood
or wanting to be with you
time trickles elusively
I try to hold on
honey from my hands
yawning to the ground
washed away in the rain
oh, to lick
each precious bit
from my fingers
suck its sweetness
until I am sick with it
sticky with it
wanting all of you at once
with delicious spoonfuls
the jar tips again
to catch a taste
of lazy afternoon in your arms
© Barbara Ann Black, 2010-2011