My Totem Plant, the Dandelion

9 degrees this morning, with a light dusting of new snow on the ground, the coldest we've had so far on this day before Christmas. Our longest night was three days ago, and folks at Prairie Hill celebrated with a fire out in the chill air, imagining with gratitude the days slowly beginning to lengthen.  More light. I know that plants are much more aware of the cycles of earth than we humans are, and the subtleties of weather. And since they have no houses to go into when the temperatures plummet, their lives depend upon preparing for winter if they are to survive into the new year. It seems miraculous that plants can actually live through months of sub-freezing temperatures, waiting underground for spring to come. The ground we can see now in December, the dead-looking surface, looks pretty hopeless, bereft of small plant life. And as the winter goes on, the ground underneath the surface freezes too. How can those small remnants of plants from last season survive to live again when it gets warm? It seems impossible. Yet they do. The vast cover of perennial plants wakes up every spring in a blaze of life. 

By spring, my body is starting to crave fresh greens. And the first wild plant that I usually find to eat is the dandelion. Those strong hardy roots push up leaves as early as March, and I am waiting! I love preparing a spring breakfast of green onions and dandelion leaves. First I cut them up and saute them in oil or butter. Then I crack an egg or two over the top and cover it on low heat until the eggs are just done. Yum! It makes my mouth water writing about it, but I will have to be patient and wait until spring.

When I lived on the farm, the west part of our yard was a favorite place for dandelions to grow, and I could easily harvest enough leaves for breakfast in a few minutes. Here at Prairie Hill, with ground still recovering from the rigors of development, there aren't many dandelions yet. So I have a longer search before I have enough for breakfast. I planted the only dandelion seed I could find in the catalogs the first year I lived here, and it ended up being "French dandelion", in the chicory family. A disappointment. But they will do in a pinch. I think that the first dandelions in this country did come over with the European settlers, maybe even from France. But the dandelions that have naturalized here are in my opinion much more delicious and clearly botanically different from the chicory look-alike.

It is interesting that home owners who want good-looking lawns treat dandelions as their enemy. I wonder if they would feel differently if they knew how healthy this little plant can make them. In fact, the list of attributes is pretty impressive: 

• loaded with vitamins and minerals, as well as antioxidants
• reduces inflammation and cholesterol
• helps to regulate blood sugar levels
• good for blood pressure, and supports a healthy liver

I eat dandelion leaves because I love them. But I am glad that they are health-promoting too. The root, in fact, is even more full of health-promoting qualities, though I have not begun to eat the root for pleasure. I do make a tincture out of the root, and if I just want to be healthier, I can pull that out.  The truth for me is that I simply have an affinity for this plant. Yes, it tastes good to me. But it also feels good. It feels like my friend. I admire its tenacity, its longevity. I resonate to its ability to grow almost anywhere, its deep root bringing minerals to the surface, its happy bloom. Some people may have the temerity to call it a weed, but to me it is a welcome green companion, a kind of "salt-of-the-earth" friend, unpretentious and comforting. A hobbit of the plant world.