The Dandelions’ Comeback

It was the first day of “No Mow May” and I was supremely annoyed.  In the meadow near our house a neighbor powered a loud and noxious gas-fueled ride-on lawn mower, decimating the field of sun-bright dandelions, purple violets and sweet clover,  leaving flat, boring green paths in its wake.

After a cold, gray winter and a stubborn, overdue spring, perennials were finally leafing out, flowering fruit trees were wearing their best dresses and the lilac released its purple sweetness. May is the month for welcoming the pollinating species: flowers, bees and butterflies. We had seen the first bees just a few days earlier, hungry for the clover; even a hummingbird, searching for bright blossoms. Swallows, true to their inner clock, came to the fields on May 1, swooping and diving, catching newly hatched flies.

It’s a critical period, when we humans need to get out of the way and allow this precious and increasingly fragile time in the year’s lifecycle to continue. Let the wildflowers grow, leave the grass unfertilized and unmown and be soothed by a mosaic of yellows, and purples, whites and bright green. So that spring’s strong push for life will flourish.

I remember a folk song from the seventies that went like this: “God bless the grass that grows through the crack/ They roll the concrete over it to try to hold it back.” Which always, fortunately, fails. One autumn, when we were having our driveway repaved, I noticed, too late, that the area where lilies of the valley had always grown was covered with asphalt. It was a lovely spot, just by the path leading from the back steps to the garage door. I was so sad to lose it.

Spring came. And one day, looking down by the door, I saw a crack in that hard, unforgiving asphalt. Just visible, a hint of green. A few days later, a stem. Then, a bud, a flower, a lily! And more cracks. And more lilies. What amazing energy, what yearning for the sun, for growth, for life! A “force that through the green fuse drives the flower” is strong enough to blast apart concrete.*

I continue to circle around God and, like Rilke, I don’t know if I’m getting any closer. Although occasionally, happily, I do get glimpses. Like what happened the day after the flattening of the dandelion-rich field.

I looked out my window and saw this:                                       

and this:

And so, for today, as I circle, the word that connects me to the Holy is Energy. Nature’s bold, stubborn, unrelenting Energy. Energy that will not flag nor fail; that pushes a small yellow blossom through flattened grass.  Energy to value, respect and do our level best to preserve.