I was already celebrating today because it's Mike McCready of Pearl Jam's birthday (you have your holidays, I have mine!) But when I saw that it is Dandelion Day, I couldn't let the opportunity pass.
I was raised with great respect for dandelions -- my grandmother cooked the greens for my grandfather, I never had them, they said they were too bitter and I wouldn't like them, but that applied to the whole family and they wouldn't let me avoid THEM...and my grandfather made dandelion wine, which was out of this world. But when my grandmother used it to make her chicken that I can't tell you the name of because it was in dialect, instead of dry vermouth, which she usually used, it was so good, you could cry. Speaking of crying, he used to take me along to pick them for his wine, I'm 8, 9, 10, after 20 minutes, I was fried and exhausted, and knew the chances of Jesus driving up in a Good Humor truck were better than him taking me for ice cream, but he would go on for two hours non-stop, and he was in his late 70s.
I also love the song Dandelion by the Stones; and I have a special affinity for anything that is just living its life and minding its own business that has to hear it doesn't belong somewhere, or it is inferior to others of its kind, just because someone said so, because they didn't like its independence or ease in acclimating itself to different surroundings or didn't pay attention when someone told it where it could go and where it couldn't. So Happy Dandelion Day, dandelions. From one weed to another.