Pale little dandelion, in her white shroud,Heareth the angel-breeze call from the cloud.
Tiny plumes fluttering, make no delay,
Little winged dandelion, soareth away.
by Helen Barron Bostwick
I'm aware of how frequently Sis is featured in my photos of late . . . she has the questionable fortune of being home with me when I'm not working and Big D is at school. Today's adventure was at Forest Park and we found a lovely cluster of dandelions begging to wished upon. 
She tried admirably to get the job done and I have literally dozens of photos documenting her attempts. It was stubborn dandelion fuzz, clinging quite tenaciously to its stem. Finally mama added her considerable hot air to the effort and we had lift off!
2 comments:
i do not hate a dandelion. i know lots of people do but i always liked them. memories of picking them as a kid, memories of getting a bouquet of them as a mom. margie
these are just precious.
my mother loves dandelions, and now so do i. even at 37 years old, i still pick them, make wishes and blow on them. :)
lovely post.
Post a Comment