Dandelions of My Life

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Recently, the two dandelions above were placed on my kitchen table by two of my grandchildren.  They were plucked from my backyard for their mother.  My daughter never knew about it, because they forgot to take them home with them, but I’m sure she has received other dandelions from them before.  As I looked at these little treasures (the dandelions and my grandchildren), it made me think of all the dandelions in my life.

I remember picking dandelions for my own mother, as well as wild flowers from the meadow where my grandfather had his one-room cabin in the mountains.  Those dandelions were the most beautiful things on earth to me.  I picked them with love, presented them with love, and had no clue that adults consider them “weeds.”   What is not to love about a dandelion?  Just look at the beauty above!

One summer in my teen years, my Dad paid my sister and me a nickle for each dandelion we picked out of his yard because he was too busy with business and family to weed them properly and didn’t want the neighbors to think he didn’t care about his yard (which was normally his oasis).  I think it would have been cheaper for him that summer to hire a gardener.

My children picked dandelions for me when they were small, and I loved every one of them.  I knew that just like the dandelions of my own childhood, they were picked and presented with love.  Now I have grandchildren.  I made the mistake when grandchildren began to arrive of telling them that they could pick all the flowers at my house they wanted.  I suspect that’s why my husband’s little lemon tree has only produced about three lemons in its first four or five years.  I think the tree is finally beginning to grow faster than the grandchildren, so hopefully, he’ll have some lemons next year.  Flowers have been picked for Granny, and for their moms.  Sometimes they go home, and sometimes they are forgotten.

Finding beauty in a simple dandelion is such an easy thing to do, yet only children seem to be able to do it.  Why is that?  Beauty is where you find it; not necessarily where it is planted. Beautiful happens when you least expect it.  It happened to me this morning.  I was deep in sleep and was awakened by a gentle kiss on my cheek letting me know that my better half was off with our daughter and our niece.  He was walking a 5K, and they were walking a 1/2 marathon.  Beauty was rolling over, looking up at him with one eye open, and thinking how much I still love his lips on my cheek after 36 years of marriage.

There was beauty in the breeze coming through my bedroom window, and in the birds singing in the trees.  There was beauty in the stillness as read a good book and enjoyed the peaceful morning.  There was beauty in the squirrel spanking it’s tail against the fence post while I ate my breakfast.  There was beauty in the front door banging as the tired, dirty 1/2 marathon and 5K walkers returned this afternoon.

I don’t always stop to appreciate the beauty around me, but when I do, it sure makes life a little more worth living.  I am blessed.

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