I just read a story about a man who took great pride in his lawn and was plagued by a large crop of dandelions. He tried every method he knew to destroy them, but to no avail. In desperation, he wrote to his local Department of Agriculture. He recorded for them all that he had done and ended by asking what he could do next. In due course he received the reply: 'We suggest you learn to love them'.
Two weeks ago I thought 'this is the year of the dandelions' - there were so many in bloom. The fields are still yellow, but now it is with buttercups and rapsoil; the poor dandelions have grey heads!
What's the difference between dandelions in a lovely garden and a lovely house in the wrong place? 'It isn't a lovely house; the roof is full of technicalities!' is one response I got. And 'you don't have to feel sorry for grey-headed dandelions; those grey fluff-balls will go where they please.'
Well, I acknowledge that I do feel sorry about both dandelions in a lovely lawn and a lovely house in the wrong place. And I believe that sorrow may be the beginning of healing. I have started practicing to learn to love both!
The summer has returned to Brantevik!