Dandy explorer

So, talking about dandelions is the project involving the friends in the Netherlands. We know that we want to tell a tale - and a tale rather than a story. The etymologies of the words suggest a difference. Tale is rooted in the same ideas as telling, while story shares its root with history. One is oral and often fictional, the other is fact based.

We will weave in many facts, for dandelions are fascinating, but we will also incorporate other elements that are not facts in the terms of science or history.

One exciting addition, thanks to a connection that arose via Pete Yeo (a reconciliation ecologist, no less) is dandelion music... which you can hear here.

Pete offered this lovely text, as well.

‘Dandelions’, writes naturalist Richard Mabey in his Flora Britannica, ‘mean carpets of golden-yellow flowers, jagged green leaves (the dent de lion - ‘lion’s tooth’) and clouds of featherweight seeds blowing in the wind’. They are received as beauty by many; I carry with me an enduring generic image of their massed seed heads (called ‘clocks’ after a children’s fancy) backlit by low angle sunlight.

Some, however, see Taraxacum officinale - to give the plant its scientific name - as an archetypal weed. It is, for instance, the bane of proud lawn- or patio-owners, its deep tap root and quick, bountiful, wind-borne seed-set making it difficult to eradicate. In addition, this Eurasian species’ introduction to America (as a colonial food crop, more on that later) has led to its widespread naturalisation there, to the point of being viewed an invasive species (as elsewhere in the temperate world). Of course, it’s all a matter of perspective, and so, in terms of its weediness, what ameliorating insights might we glean from consideration of its ecological role?

Dandelion is a consummate early successional pioneer (see succession), thriving in a variety of disturbed habitats and bringing several appropriate skills. Its infamous tap root not only drills down through soil compaction (such as you might find under a lawn or a patio), draining and aerating, it also mines nutrients from deeper, often otherwise inaccessible layers, nourishing the surface soil, surrounding plants, and passing animals (all of its parts being edible and highly nutritious). Such altruism is reflected in the plant’s broadband appeal to insects (over 100 different kinds it’s said), a common trait of pioneers that surely also helps to reintroduce the web of life back to damaged habitats (birds follow insects, etc). In addition, dandelion is known to cleanse soils of certain toxicities, especially heavy metals. All in all, then, we can view the plant as veritable Earth medicine, toward living soil and a thriving ecology (to which both monoculture lawn and immaculate patio are somewhat anathema).

Dandelion’s generic name, Taraxacum, stems from the Arabic word for ‘bitter herb’, whilst its specific name officinalerefers to ‘pharmacy’ in Latin. Both allude to the plant’s role as a medicinal herb for our inner ecologies (see also herbalism). Like all bitter (tasting) herbs, it is good for digestion and the reader may be interested to know that a caffeine-free coffee substitute can be made from the root. What’s more, as with many tap-rooted plants (like the digestif fennel, but be aware that some are toxic), there appears to be a correlation between its support for nutrient metabolism within the human ecosystem and its similar effect on the land. Hence, it’s less likely to come as a surprise to learn that it is a known cleanser of toxicity from the liver and kidneys (including heavy metals). The list of its medicinal qualities could go on; it’s worth mentioning that dandelion root is now being trialled as an anticancer treatment, with leukaemia and lymphoma for instance (an ‘invasive’ plant for invasive dis-ease), whilst it’s long been known to increase milk production in nursing mothers (of all kinds). Once again, the ‘pattern that connects’.

Even if you’re feeling fine there’s good reason to include this winter-green herb in your diet, as the Scandinavians and French do. As I’ve noted, it’s highly nutritious, having more iron and calcium than spinach for example, and being a rich source of potassium. Young leaves and flowers can enhance salads whilst the latter (produced over a long period, to the joy of insects too) can be used to make jam. Or wine.

Plus, dandelion’s good with fruit, in the sense that it helps it to ripen by releasing ethylene gas. I recall a photograph of a cherry orchard in northern Spain, white blossoms over a carpet of dandelions; quite possibly no coincidence, especially as (according to Wikipedia) there is research indicating that the plant’s appeal to pollinators creates an ‘adjacent benefit’ for surrounding plants (see also companion planting).

In terms, then, of yield (in the broad spirit of permaculture), puff-ball (to give an alternative name) is, as we may now see, a rather magical plant. No wonder Newfoundlanders and Labradorians call it dumble-dor.

Dandelion grows just about anywhere there are people. It is especially good at breaking up the green-grass monoculture, aerating the soil, and adding essential food for pollinators in a flowerless lawn. Timothy Scott, herbalist.

As I offered my dandy-drawing, I'll add here my rather crap wren.