Dandelions: cheery signs of spring

Proponents of pristine lawns gripe about the yellow intruders. But for some homeowners, the sunshiny flowers are always welcome.

By Miriam C. Daum

from the April 10, 2008 edition

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Spring. It's a wonderful word evoking visions of returning "firsts": first crocus, first robin, and first balmy breeze. But for me, images of spring are heralded by another first – the dandelion.

Proponents of pristine emerald lawns gasp at the very notion of those bright yellow intruders. But in my yard, the cheerful little flowers are always welcome.

Dandelions, you see, have a lot to say for themselves, in several languages.

There appears to be multinational agreement regarding the appearance of their sharp-edged leaves, earning them the name of lion's tooth in Greek (leontodon), Latin (dens leonis), German (Löwenzahn), Italian (dente di leone) and Spanish (diente de león). A mispronunciation of the French version, dent de lion, is believed to be the phonetic origin of our "dandelion," further evidence that the maligned plant has classy roots.

("A weed by any other name...." Alas, this weed has lots of other names!)

How uninterruptedly green our grass must have been before dandelions were brought to the US from Europe, all those "perfect lawn" elitists must think with a sigh.

Containing copious nectar, the immigrant plants were imported to provide food for bees, which in turn provide us with dandelion honey.

Happily generous not only with its nectar, each yellow bloom also contains many individual flowers, and, consequently, many seeds (54 to 172 per flower head), which are an abundance of wealth or a horticultural purist's nightmare, depending on who's doing the judging.

But dandelions more than earn their keep, I think, with their bountiful benefits. They can be made into tea and jam. Those ubiquitous leaves may also be cooked like other greens, such as spinach, and can be used raw in salads.

Parts of the plant are used as a mosquito repellent. In some areas, large crops of dandelions are grown so their roots may be harvested and roasted for use as a coffee substitute.

But maybe in their happiest task of all – dandelions are a children's flower. Unburdened by adult "do-not-touch" admonitions like those for thorny roses, dainty delphiniums, or elegant orchids, dandelions seem to welcome the embrace of small, sweaty hands.

Their bright Crayola-crayon yellowness, like feathery sunshine, is the perfect stuff of special bouquet offerings:

"I picked these just for you," says the little girl with golden pollen dust on her tiny nose.

"Smell them, smell them!" she begs, until you, too, have matching gold dust on your face. They smell of sun and light and innocent joy. They smell of childhood.

And like energetic, playful children, dandelions open every morning and close up at night.

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