The Use of Dandelions (Bright Year: Day 31)

I eat you, dandelions. Tomorrow you'll run roughshod over my whole yard, choking out the other plants and eliciting unbecoming language from me. But today I eat you. Eat you wilted. Beneath sizzling bacon grease. That will be your glory. And if someday you exist in the new earth, it will be as a vestige, as a keepsake of easy gardening in the midst of a broken world. You'll be there, a relic at the edge of the garden, struggling along while every other plant declares how stupid-easy it is to bring goodness from the ground.

[This post is part of Bright Year, a series exploring how the Easter light shines on every day of the calendar. See the whole series at www.sevensided.org/bright-year.]