From within the light a voice spake — yes, spake, this is a King James Version biblical allusion — saying, “Saul b’y, why are you being such a hard ticket?”
Needless to say, Saul’s close encounter with the vocalizing light frightened the whoopsie out of him so much that afterwards he changed his name to Paul and behaved right saintly.”
Well, after the aforementioned hard winter I didn’t change my name but I did change my attitude towards dandelions. I saw the light, so to speak. I shall explain. One day in early May, feeling down-hearted, disheartened, and generally distressed — and no doubt driving Dearest Duck to distraction — I went outdoors seeking a sunbeam. Lo and behold. Tucked tightly against the basement wall, in full bloom at the foot of a sunbeam, as golden as the bucket of loonies at the end of a rainbow, was the Spring’s first dandelion.
I fell to my knees like a sinner at an altar. P’raps I shed a tear. I know I cast off winter’s oppressive cloak. I know my heart swoll up like a balloon filled with light.
Still on my knees, my nose pressed to the dandelion’s yellow topknot like a nectar-sucking bumblebee, I offered up this paean: “Thank you, Creator of the Universe, for this glorious golden plant.”
I don’t recall with certainty but also I may have embraced and kissed the indomitable little shagger. “Harry!” B’ys, let the dandelions bide. Bizzy-bees will sing your praises. Thank you for reading. PS — or whatever — that same spring I scribble some imperfect verse in praise of dandelions. It isn’t Billy Wordsworth, but it’s verse nonetheless. P’raps in the corner of a back page Mr. Editor will include the verse. Or not. Mr. Editor is the boss.