Dandelion Butter and Wishes

Do you like butter?

Early in the spring, we kids would taunt each other with that question as we shoved a dandelion flower under a chin. And later in the summer, we’d blow wishes with the white dandelion pods, scattering our hopeful dreams with future golden lawn fillers.

We had neighbors on Caroline Street who cursed the bright yellow flowers or pulled as many of the tenacious stems as they could, but I loved the sight of green and yellow across yards.

Friends I visited in the Orchards or families I babysat there had, occasionally, velvet green carpets of lawn without a dandelion to be seen. Their pride in a flawless expanse was a puzzle to me. I looked forward each year to the first crop of dandelions.

My brother Dave made dandelion wine which he stored in our fruit cellar in whatever bottles he could collect. Some years it hit you with a whack as you drank it, but other times, the delicate, fragrant wine slid down your throat before it turned to fire inside.

Summer in a bottle, as writer Ray Bradbury promised.

Dandelions, a sign of true school’s-out summer. Even lawn mowing couldn’t stop them, and the persistent bright weeds popped up again to continue decorating the neighborhood.

A few of our neighbors harvested the early crop for dandelion greens, which I never tried, so missed out on a source of Vitamins A, E, C, iron, zinc, and calcium.

The obstinate weed belongs to the Asteraceae family that evolved 30 million years ago across Europe and the Middle East. Chinese medicines have included them for over a thousand years. Native Americans used them for food and medicine, and historians think that dandelions came with the pilgrims on the Mayflower.

Dent de lion, “lions’ tooth” from the French is also known as blowball, cankerwort, Irish daisy, monks-head, wild endive, and even pee-a-bed because of the diuretic effect of the roots.

Before the vitamin content was identified, dandelion leaves and roots were used as tonics to remove bloodstream toxins, fevers, toothaches, arthritis, heartburn, and other disorders.

I’m certain that my brother’s dandelion wine could overcome many ailments, as well.

Yellow dye was made from the flower and purple from the leaves. Should we also add that the root tea could increase psychic abilities or call spirits?

Dandelion plants can reach nearly a foot and a half, and their seeds can be carried five miles because of the parachute-like shape. That’s a lot of mileage for one wish or puff of wind.

You can order a package of 10,000 dandelion seeds on Amazon for ten dollars. And why would you, you think, surrounded by them in the Heights?

They don’t grow well where I live in Central Florida. We have a yellow wildflower that resembles them, but no lawn dotted with bright gold.

Now that our spring is leaning into summer, I miss dandelions, along with lilacs, weeping willows, bleeding hearts, gladiolus, and real grass. I miss lawns peppered with dandelions.

The first time I visited my friend Linnea in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, we went to a local nursery where I was stunned to see carefully-grown dandelion plants for sale.

“What?” I said, pointing to them.

Linnea grew up two doors from me on Caroline Street, so was familiar with our pesky weed. She shrugged.

“They don’t grow here naturally,” she said, “and are popular.”

I laughed at the idea then, but now?

I’d happily plant a few bright flowers in my ragged Bahiagrass-St. Augustine lawn.

Or in a pot for my container garden where I’ve also sprouted Queen Anne’s lace to baby them into flower.

Instead of being cursed, maybe my neighbors would drive by our yard in envy. I might even coerce my brother into producing a harvest of golden, heady wine.

For old times’ sake, check to see if you like butter this summer, and when the flowers dry, make a wish for me.