NEBRASKAland Magazine is dedicated to outstanding photography and informative writing with an engaging mix of articles and photos highlighting Nebraska’s outdoor activities, parklands, wildlife, history and people.
Issue link: http://mag.outdoornebraska.gov/i/1273904
58 Nebraskaland • August-September 2020 By Gerry Steinauer A FONDNESS FOR DANDELIONS A native of Europe , the dandelion is considered by most in the United States a weed, a frontline enemy in the battle of well-manicured lawn versus disorder, neighborly pride versus slovenliness. My stance in this war is one of conscientious objector: I am morally opposed to killing them. Ask my neighbors. How and when I developed my fondness for dandelions is unknown, but it certainly was not during my childhood. On many summer mornings, Mom would march us kids out to the yard to uproot our quota of dandelions and other weeds before we could run off and play. I approached this task as a grumbling sandbagger, fi lling my bucket mostly with hastily picked leaves and fl owers, and few roots. I had better things to do than dig dang dandelions. Perhaps, it was an incident in my early botany career that enlightened my views on dandelions. I had stopped at a Sandhills ranch house to ask permission to do a plant survey and was pleasantly chatting with the rancher's wife when the rancher drove up. He walked in, turned to his wife and said, "What the hell is he selling?" I was a bit rattled. Thinking fast, she invited me to stay for lunch before I could be booted down the road. It was during her delicious meal of fresh-picked dandelion stems sautéed in a white sauce ladled over boiled potatoes that the grumpy rancher miraculously mellowed and even chatted a bit with me. Most amazing, at meal's end, he grudgingly approved my survey. Was it the savory dandelion sauce that had tempered his mood and saved my hide? I think so. As a botanist, I view dandelions as rather harmless in the ongoing struggle between native and non-native plants for control of Nebraska's ecosystems. In frequently hayed or heavily grazed prairies, the perennial can be abundant, manifesting itself by a spring carpet of golden blooms and trailing seed heads. When a disturbance dissipates, however, the plant tends to fade. Unlike many non-natives, such as white and yellow sweet clover and reed canary grass, which I truly despise, the dandelion does not appear to out-compete native plants. For this, I am grateful. From an aesthetic viewpoint, in green, monotonous urban lawns, I fi nd dandelions a welcome splash of color and beauty. Wildlife also appreciate them. Bees, butterfl ies and other pollinators consume their nectar and pollen, while rabbits nibble the young, tender fl ower stems. Recently, in my hometown of Aurora, I fl ushed a large fl ock of goldfi nches from a vacant lot billowing with dandelion heads. They were eating the seeds. To dandelion haters whom my words have agitated, perhaps a cup of soothing dandelion tea, made from the roasted roots, will settle your nerves. Or perhaps a dish of battered dandelion fl owers fried into crispy fritters will mellow your mood. If those fail, surely a swig or two of sweet dandelion wine will open your hearts to this poor, misunderstood weed. THE LAST STOP PHOTO BY GERRY STEINAUER