Our yard is awash in dandelions. Seriously, the dandelion to grass ratio is about 50%, and I think the tide is turning in their favor. It feels like it takes less than a day for those yellow flowers to turn into puffballs, and perpetuate the cycle.
As a lead in to this, I never wanted a lawn. I spent most of my formative years in a dry part of the country, and my family was frugal, so we viewed outside space primarily as a place to grow food and raise chickens. However, our house is a rental, and came with a back lawn. I was hoping to kill it off with benign neglect, but the moment it warmed up here the lawn bounced back from winter and, in what seemed like a matter of days, became so long and bushy that I couldn’t even see the cat when he ventured in. I’ve mowed it a few times since then, but sometimes I feel like I can hear it grow.
Back to the dandelions. Were I a lawn aficionado, in response to this I might have fought back with chemicals, time spent pulling weeds… However, given that I liked the grass no more than the dandelions, I determined to be a good forager and make lemonade out of lemons! As often happens when a plan sparks in my brain, wild optimism and selective amnesia were also triggered, and I decided to ignore that we ate dandelion greens when I was a child, and I loathed them. They were bitter, and nasty, and a trial to choke down.
The project started promisingly enough with BS and I plucking leaves together, feeling virtuous and crunchy-granola-y.
DANDELION PASTA (a swing and a miss)