By Michelle Webster-Hein

February 21, 2014


We have a carpet of dandelions over our front lawn--bright yellow heads peppering the cushions of moss and tufts of grass.

I don’t understand why they garner so much resentment, these cheerful and persistent volunteers. I admire them, their spirit. I admire that no other flower over the course of my life has bent so kindly to the plucking, or to the painting of cheeks and noses, or, in its final days, to the flourish of a child’s wish.

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