I awoke early on this Saturday morning to mow the lawn. I cut short the lives of the many sunny yellow heads that were scattered profusely in the yard.
And as salty beads of sweat collected on my eyelashes I considered the dandelion.
I could learn a lot from this small, hardy, piece of sunshine. No matter how many times I come with roaring metal blades to sever what little beauty this plant holds as it's own--it never gives up. It doesn't give in to hopelessness and just acquiesce to the pain. No, the dandelion digs it's roots deep into the soil and with sunshine and water works on creating beauty once again.
And when the time comes for it to pass on and it's bright gold turns to soft gray...well then it scatters it's life into the wind. And in dying the dandelion multiplies the amount of sunshine that we see scattered throughout the world.
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