Dandelion 1

The appearance of Spring flowers makes me remember the Spring months of my childhood. Although winter seemed to last really long in Pittsburgh, my Italian family really loved the prolonged season when the new flowers were slow to bloom and we could look for wild dandelions. The tradition was long-lived for my ancestors—my grandfather was a superior forager, knowing how to pick mushrooms and make wine from dandelion flowers. My parents were not quite as adventurous, but we regularly hiked and picked the early dandelions (before they flowered), making salads with the bitter greens. Walking into the nearby wooded hollow, we looked like a strange gang of knife-wielding Italians, carrying paper bags for our harvest.
While driving home the other day, I realized how hard it is to find dandelions today, as most yards are treated with herbicides. I can actually find cultivated ones in my grocery store. I was able to pull into a local church parking lot and pick several—not to eat, but to paint. A few ended up on my window sill to help me reminisce about how the lowly weed provided us our outdoor entertainment and nourishment.