Although the first half of the month was unsettled in its weather, it had none of the drama of February. In general, the days were mild and often sunny but the nights were bitterly cold and full of frosts, and many a morning was bathed in patches of mist and fog. There was little rain and the land looked parched by the end of the month. We were given a glimpse of the Worm Moon but the earthworms never appeared – far too cold for them. The birds didn’t seem too bothered. They supped till their bellies were full, from the feeders around our yard. Essentially the food is for the small birds but recently more of the larger species; woodpeckers, magpies and wood pigeons, have attempted to eat from the small feeders, all looking slightly awkward and too big for the job. Lots of noisy wings flapping and falling off the structure, most undignified.
The riverbank was as busy as ever, several morning sightings of ducks flying off from the bank, the wild garlic sending out its pungent and delicious scent and the hemlock starting to emerge through the old growth from last year. All of the trees we planted on the side of the hill appear to have got through another winter but the howling winds from February have affected the growth of some, the silver birches in particular are not looking well with a poor, scanty show of leaves. In and around the hedges the primroses continue to flourish, alongside the common dog violets, pink campions and the low lying germander and wood speedwells spreading their lovely blue haze through the grasses. Navelwort is vigorously spreading itself across the old stone walls and hedges that line our yard, supported and framed by masses of new foxglove growth. It’s going to be a bumper year for these pink-purple inhabitants. And finally, there is the dandelion, spreading its colonies across the land.
The dandelion is one of those plants that divide feelings amongst humans, it can inspire loyalty or treachery. Before the idea of a lawn became popular, dandelions were praised for both flowers and leaves as a source of food, medicine and beauty. Gardeners used to weed out grass to make room for dandelions. The American poet Lovell, (1819-1891) wrote a poem entitled, ‘To The Dandelion’, which gives you an idea as to how the dandelion was viewed;
“Dear common flower that grow’st beside the way,
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold…
Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold’
At some point in the twentieth century, humans made a complete reversal of this affection and decided dandelions were weeds and thus the plant became unwanted. Gardeners duly set about weeding out dandelions to make way for grass. (I’m assuming they had a lot of time on their hands). It has been used by the ancient Egyptians Greeks, Romans and the Chinese, who still use it in their medicine cabinet today. It is mostly known for its ability to help the liver remove toxins from the body but way back in the past, the dandelion had been prescribed for almost anything; from curing the plague to getting rid of warts. It is more nutritious than most vegetables in the garden, which might account for its ability to heal in a number of different ways. It has more vitamin A than spinach, more vitamin C than tomatoes and a shed load of iron, calcium and potassium – why did I not force feed my children this plant? It can be eaten in salads, used in cooking, it can be made into tea, beer and wine, don’t throw the roots away, they can be used as a coffee substitute – you get the picture.
The gifts from dandelions are not only confined to nutrition for humans, they also give generously to the soil and other plants. Through their very deep roots, (sometimes up to fifteen foot), they are able to pull up nutrients from the soil, like calcium and then share this with other plants. They are able to fight their way through gravel and cement - how brilliant is that? In addition to all these helpful features, the golden yellow flower and its seed puffball holds a strong position in our imagination and folklore. It is possibly the only wildflower that a child can pick without getting into trouble or poisoning themselves. Blowing on the puffball can tell you any number of facts, as any child will tell you; how many years until you get married, how many children you will have, the hour of the day, the number of years until your death, and it can carry your thoughts and dreams to your loved ones. I mean, who doesn’t need at least one of these gems? Finally, it can be used as an informal barometer to predict the weather; in fine weather the flowers extend into a full face – if rain is on the way, the flower head will close up at once, as it does at dusk – earning its nickname of the ‘Shepherd’s clock’. Now is the time to lay down that hoe, bask in the glorious deep yellow flowers and celebrate the many delights of the dandelion.
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