A dandelion’s been growing outside our back door for years, nestled against an ancient boot scraper. When I walked outside this morning, my neighbor opened it’s round, yellow mouth wand shouted, “Spring! It’s spring!”
Her friendly conversation cheered me, though I know in a few days her tongue will sprout hundreds of fuzzy white forks and spew them like gossip on the four winds. All summer, I will curse any of her offspring that take up residence in my flower beds. Over and over I will think, “I should have poisoned the monster in April before she did any damage,” and chide myself for being a pushover.
But today, I don’t have the heart to kill this tow-haired beauty in her ruffled, green gown. How can I destroy something that makes me smile whenever I open the door? How can I kill this herald of spring who survived a long, cold winter and is enjoying a day in the sun?
When the warm days are commonplace and she turns obnoxious, I’ll find the weed-killer. Then again, maybe not. If she’s not there next spring, I’d miss. And the boot scraper, the old softy, would be lonely without her.
Maybe I should let her live another year. Good neighbors are hard to find.
