Life should not be a journey to the grave, with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming
WOW! What a Ride!
Those are DANDELIONS?!?
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True confession: I don't really mind dandelions. They're pretty, in my humble opinion.
But some are prettier than others.
Years ago, my parents moved to Pullman, Washington. In due course, we went to visit. I remember riding through town with Mama, going I-don't-remember-where. What I do remember is the huge, bright, yellow flowers growing at the bases of the telephone poles along the street. They were the size of chrysanthemums, but didn't look quite like them. Gorgeous, though, just gorgeous.
"What are those flowers?" I asked Mom.
"Those," she said ruefully, "Are the dandelions."
Whoa, baby! I'd never seen anything like them before, and haven't since.
However, I hd a similar moment on the trip through Arizona. The highways are lined, in many places, and for many miles, with blankets of pale yellow flowers. I worked hard at getting photos, but they're not much for highway shoulders there, and we weren't able to stop. This is the best I could do:
We did, finally, stop to go through an antique mall. There were the same yellow flowers there, massed around the side of the building. The sun was a glare that threatened all my shots with overexposure, but I did get this:
I picked one blossom to carry into the RV, and shot a close-up there. Let me tell you, I don't care if it IS a dandelion. I'm going to plant its poor little wilted head in the boulevard area out front:
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You can email the author at waterspriteflying@deardiary.net
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