A weed by any other name...

Sweet Annie from a summer past

I was hoping to have a couple book posts written by now but the Easter Holiday, lawn-garden work, and the addition of making my way to the walking path and spending forty-five minutes there each day have made my days go by too fast.

The walking trail is quite lovely as one passes by prairie swamps wetlands, cornfields (not yet planted), beside a bubbling creek, through a neighborhood, and up to a forest... whose trail I have not entered as I have been walking alone (you know, that whole Bigfoot fetish and all).

All of this scenery is in a two mile stretch of a walking-bike trail which picks up off and on around the entire town.  If I should decide to turn left from where I park instead of right... I would eventually end up in the Research area of the University where Christopher designs Apps part-time.  I choose nature instead.

Anyway... all this as a background to the whole weed thing.  As I was walking this past week, I noticed the yellow carpet of dandelions along each side of the path.  I love dandelions and my hubby despises them.

When our children were both tiny, they liked to bring me a bouquet of the yellow flowers with their chubby little hands.  I would occasionally allow them to pick the rare dandelion which was allowed to die a natural death and blow the fluffy seeds into the wind.  Which... when their father happened to see this occur... he would shout out a loud NOOOOOO! 

Asking if we were aware each puff of wind was allowing dozens of seeds to land throughout our lawn... we would give him a blank look as if we didn't have any idea.  Sometimes it is better to just play dumb ya' know.  Especially if you love to see fluffy dandelion seeds blow away in the breeze.

My husband and I have had this ummm... discussion... about weeds vs. flowers for decades now and the primary villain (until perhaps the pretty violets of Creeping Charlie in our current lawn) has been the dandelion.

For years I have told him of my Southern family actually eating the pretty yellow flowers and greenery but he would scoff and say we don't eat weeds... we nuke them.  I would say something back while muttering "city boy" under my breath.

But recently I had a friend of dandelions come about from left field as my husband read a book called One Second After.  It is a gritty story (not from a Christian perspective with "language" and all) about what the United States would be like after an EMP strike. 

He tells me the humble weed became a fine feast in the book.

I shouldn't have said "I told you so" but I couldn't help it.  Hundreds of years of culinary history back me up (after all... the French made snails a delicacy so one must not say anything about a little yellow flower and its' equally humble greenery).

I'm not sure it would stop him from pulling up the "weeds" but after reading the book, he is quite doubtful he could "nuke" a lawn which may provide food should we experience a national emergency.

The jury is still out on my beloved Sweet Annie (I have yet to tell him there is a dreadful rumor it is related to ragweed).  ;)