Romance Does Not Have a Place in Gardening

The other day while I was weeding, I turned and saw my daughter Ariel blowing on a dandelion puff ball. My vision clouded with red.

I stared, trying to find words.

Daughter, noticing the stare, said: “I guess I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Me, trying to be patient with said child whose mind has been addled by finals: “No.”

Daughter, with a shrug: “It’s not so bad though. Look at all the other weeds—what’s a few more?”

Me, considering whether daughter is intentionally provoking me: “Not funny.”

Daughter: “It’s stress-relieving.”

Me, wondering whether provoking your mother or blowing weed seeds everywhere is stress-relieving: “Go blow the dandelion puff ball into the trash can.”

Daughter, laughs and flounces away with the puff ball: “That’s not very romantic.”

I watch my daughter suspiciously all the way back into the house. And I plot that if I see that child blow a puff ball into my lawn ever again, I will teach her eventual children how romantic it is to blow puff balls into her lawn. Turnabout is fair play.


Okay, dandelion seedheads are gorgeous. But still, one does not simply blow the seeds across the lawn.

Photo by Magnus Manske, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons