I’ve been thinking a lot about dandelions these days.
I used to be a prolific dandelion puff blower. It was borderline compulsive, it was a rare puff of seeds that escaped me. I was actually told by a few friends that I seemed to have exponentially increased the number of dandelions in my neighborhood (which I found both magical, and impossibly difficult to quantify.)
I rarely wish on mating flowers any more. I walked by a huge field full of snow drifts of these whimsical flowers and… walked right by.
I don’t have a lot to wish for anymore, I guess.
Good thing I never got that dandelion tattoo.