I have a new toy for pulling weeds. Our lawn has lots of weeds. More accurately, our weeds have a little lawn in between them. During the summer, I can hide most of our weeds by mowing them to the same level as the grass. From the far side of the street, the green and level area surrounding my house looks almost like a regular lawn.
In Dandelion season, there is no hiding my shame. As my son used to say whenever he looked over our ¼ acre estate, “Look at all the pretty yellow flowers.” Dandelions send up a bright yellow flag of neglect, signaling to the world my impotence as a groundskeeper.
“Look at all the pretty yellow flowers.”
I don’t mind Dandelions. My parents were farmers, and when you’ve got cows to milk, hay to bail, and a myriad pieces of equipment to keep running, it’s hard to give a rat’s ass about Dandelions. My parents didn’t, and up until now, neither have I.
But I don’t live on a farm anymore. I’ve started to concern myself with Dandelions because I’m beginning to feel like the Typhoid Mary of weeds in my neighborhood. Dandelions want a better life for their children. So they send their little seedlings this way and that to search for greener pastures, or in this case, lawns.
Periodically, I try to show respect for those around me. The latest flare-up of this civil attitude has inspired me to attempt to nip the coming neighborhood Dandelion infestation at it source. I’ve already tried to spray the horde into submission, but poison is an unreliable murder weapon. It left the Dandelions listless for a day; then it made them angry.
It’s nothing personal, Mr. Dandelion. You and I are just pawns in a wider Flora-Fauna conflict that neither of us are bright enough to understand.
They’ve come back with a vengeance. My new weapon resembles a metal cane with a circle of spikes at the bottom and a little ledge to step upon. You place the bottom of the cane on top of the victim, step on the ledge, twist, and pull out the weed by the roots.
Fun for the whole family.
It works so well that the entire family wants to play with it. My son had to be the first to try it, but he’s too light to make it work efficiently. Then, my wife got hold of it.
My wife is a champion of maintaining the interior of a house, but her dominion ends at the threshold. She has rarely shown an interest in keeping up the appearance of the outdoors. This she considers to be the responsibility of Nature, with my occasional, if ineffective, help.
But once she tried my new toy, she was hooked. She’s spent two evenings in a row battling Dandelions. This sounds like a happy ending for me, right? No work and no Dandelions.
Except.
My wife, for all her strengths, is not the most proficient Dandelion hunter. Dandelion stems tend to lean off to the side (damn their milky souls), so if you aim for the bright, decoying flower, you will surely miss the root. My wife has made a regular hobby of missing the root.
She regularly pulls up out of the ground a wisp of Dandelion petal, a shock of our all-too-precious grass, and a clump of soil. Still nestled safely into the ground is the bulk of the Dandelion plant, waiting until she turns her back to send up a fresh stem.
I tried to show her how to locate the root, but she shook off my advice. “That stuff is all green down there,” she said. “How am I supposed to identify anything in that mess?”
“All you’re doing is surrounding the Dandelions with holes,” I told her. “There’s not going to be any grass left.”
She shrugged. “Well, it will just be the year without a lawn.”
And so it may be, if I can’t break her odd fascination with my new toy.
Can’t we all just get along?
Snoozing on the Sofa 
We have lots of pretty yellow flowers in our lawn too. It’s yet another of my many shames as a man.
Don’t worry. In a month from now you can get back to your regular shames as a man. Speaking of which, have you seen where Bud Light Lime has come up with an even girlier drink? It’s like a milkshake or something.
If you’re referring to the strawberry lime-a-rita, yes, I’ve tried it and am not a fan. Regular lime-a-rita will do in a pinch still though. I may put some dandelions in my hair and sit in a lawn chair and drink many BLLs this weekend. Jealous?
Don, you are a great American. Any man who says he’s not jealous of you is lying.
Thank you, sir. Though your comment may be riddled with possible sarcastic undertones, it’s just the sort of confidence booster I needed on this awful humpday. I hope all is well with you too.
No undertones today. Check back tomorrow.
Have you considered astro-turf ? Expensive, but worth it in the long run. You just have to vacuum it every few weeks.
As a man with lots of nostalgia for the ’70s, I like the way you think. But I think my dandelions would beat the crap out of astro-turf too.
I like the pretty yellow flowers. Also, my kids really love blowing the dandelion seeds all over the neighborhood. I let them. When the apocalypse comes, we’ll have lots to eat.
When the apocalypse comes, I know where I’m headed for dinner.
I hate dandelions. I feel like if I end up in Hell, my punishment will be a room filled with dandelions that I continuously pull up, and spontaneously grow back within seconds.
I think you just called my back yard Hell. I mean, I’ll have to put up some walls, but other than that, it’s good to go.
If you reclassify them as flowers, you could live in harmony . . . although I don’t think the neighbors will appreciate the Peter Pan mentality.
Then why the hell did they buy a house in Never-Never Land.
I think they’re pretty! Of course I live in Arizona where nothing but cactus grows.
I’ll trade you dandelions for some turquoise.
I am not allowed to poison the little yellow flowers because my wife thinks we are farmers and her free-range chickens might be killed. It is a dual shame on my manhood: not manly enough to kill the weeds and not manly enough to tell my wife “too bad your chickens are dead, but my lawn looks nice.”
When I was a kid, our neighbors (who were not farmers) had chickens. Our dogs must have sensed that this put too much stress on the neighbors’ lawn care efforts. The dogs did the courteous thing by getting rid of the chickens so the neighbors could have a nice lawn.
Our backyard is an animal sanctuary. We are raising the next Easter bunny, so we need to provide them with plenty of dandelion leaves.
At least you’ve got a good reason.