May 31

May at an end, and I confess that I am always sad to see it go. June will bring its own wonders, and we will assuredly enjoy its warmth and light. But May has always filled me with renewal of spirit to see so many things reawaken fully in the rush to grow.

The dandelions that remain are mostly dressed in puffy white seeds, ripe for picking by children of all ages to blow and watch as thousands of white parachutes fall gracefully amid the current of air. So many thousands of seeds, and yet some will, despite improbability, survive to create next year’s plant.

These dandelions are a miracle really. One day they remain our familiar yellow form, a myriad of compound petals with seemingly as many tiny stamens within. Then, overnight it seems that they transform into the blowies, as we call them, no less a miracle in process as it is to behold.

It is nature’s exemplar of design, a perfection of engineering that William Paley might consider as evidence of an omnipotent creator. Its dispersal is a wonder, and its fecundity astonishing; I once kept seeds for three years, small parachutes with their treasure, tucked in a jar. Nearly all germinated upon planting.