Flowering trees, delightful daffodils, grape hyacinths, these are the joys spring bestows upon me.  My husband, who is an avid gardener, takes pleasure in most colorful blooms that emerge from Mother Nature’s bountiful basket, too.  I say most, but not all.

When small yellow buttons randomly appear in his luscious green lawn, he transforms from cheerful caretaker to the Tasmanian devil.  The moment the first green blade of grass sprouts, he arms himself with a knife in his hip pocket.  At any given time, one can see him charge across the yard, thrust his weapon into the ground, and gouge the persistent intruder until it expires.  With a snarl and pensive grin on his face, he stalks, much like a cat preying on a bird, until he finds his next victim.

It doesn’t help that the neighbor next door does not share the same aversion to what my husband considers a weed.  In fact, the gold perennials camouflage the crab grass quite well in his yard.  My husband, frustrated to the point of taking action one spring, purchased an extra twenty pounds of eradicating compound.  With his trusty spreader in hand, he unfurled the treatment as far as his outstretched arm could reach.

I’ve never quite understood the uncontrollable fury of seeing a dandelion.  To me, there is something quite endearing about the simple floweret.  My heart nearly burst with joy the first time my toddler picked a bouquet and presented it to me with a grin that clearly showed her innocence.  Each spring, the freshly-picked yellow indulgences floated in a bowl of water until they grew limp and were discreetly discarded.  They brought me a delightful diversion as I washed the dishes or cooked dinner.

Are you a lover or hater of dandelions?