When most people think of the first flowers of spring, crocus, daffodils, tulips, hyacinths and the like come to mind.
But for me, it’s not spring until I see my first dandelion.
I know they are technically “weeds” and people go to extraordinary measures to remove them from their lawns, but dandelions hold a special place in my heart.
When I was little girl, we had a small sidewalk in front of our apartment house.
I don’t know why it was there. There were only four apartments in the building and the sidewalk didn’t lead to or from anything. It was only 12 feet long or so, cracked and broken in places.
Every year I would watch those cracks closely, waiting for the first dandelion bloom to appear. As soon as it did, I would pick it and take upstairs to my mother.
She would ooh and ahh, put the straggly little thing in a vase and act like I had given her a dozen long stem roses or an exotic orchid.
I can’t bear to pick the first dandelion any more. I’d rather let it grow. But I do take a picture of the blossom and email it to my mom.
Just as a little reminder that spring is on the way and that she’s still the best mom a girl could have.