Dandelions, lots and lots of dandelions. This may be the worst year for them I’ve seen. Our large yard looks like an industrial cotton candy spill. A forest of dandelions. Of course, on the other side of the fence is a horse pasture smothered in dandelions.
The neighbor across the road is fond of dumping chemicals on his very large lawn. He thinks dandelions are little lawn demons in need of an exorcism. But his holy water is poison. It’s poison to us and to our animals. He doesn’t care. The label says it’s safe. They wouldn’t sell us something that wasn’t safe, would they?
So I don’t use chemicals to eradicate the invaders. I just wait them out. They will show their little yellow flowers which turn to white balls of fluff and then retreat back into the lawn. Three weeks tops. But in those three weeks lies madness among men of pure lawn. They will go to any length, resort to all manner of machination and hover over a cauldron of witches brew, stirring as directed, to rid their lawn of the evil dandelion. It’s an obsession of wasted time and effort. As someone once said to me, “if that stuff actually worked, why are there still dandelions?”