Dandelions

We recently moved over 3,000 miles across the country to a Great Lake area city. With this, comes a large shift in climate. Our previous city was hot and dry in the summer and cold and dry in the winter. The green that one could see usually appeared dusty and dull, as if covered in a fine layer of soot or something. In our new climate, we got to experience a winter with snow (a first for the husband and dogs) and live surrounded by green. Real green.

This spring, as I drove to work, I noticed hundreds of dandelions popping up all over any spot of ground they could find. Most would soon be mowed away, but they brought with them a memory.

When I was in Austria, learning to speak German and staying with my family, I was asked to mow the mountain bike training ground behind the Sonnenhof. As my uncle showed me how to operate the mower and explain what was needed, he pointed to the the groups of flowers. “Leave the Blumen.” He said with a smile, “They are pretty so go round them.”

I nodded, determined to do a good job. I’d never mowed before, and I was excited. I still like mowing, to be honest. Especially when you can see the height differences in the grass and when your rows are nice and neat and clean. I remember that. It was at least 6 years ago, and I remember the good feeling of working with my uncle and mowing and, of course, leave the flowers.

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