You know, it was only this year that I realised that dandelion flowers close up at night. When I went out to leave the fox food, I saw them all ready for sleep. So, they tell the time before they become dandelion clocks.
In fact, it turns out that they close in the rain too...
This is incredible. We call it a weed. For centuries, people across the globe have used it as a medicinal plant. Check out this article to see some of the reported benefits.
But what I really love is this stage of the dandelion's life.
They remind me of energetic force fields. Or maybe some extraterrestrial architecture.
What miracle of design.
They seem to inspire poets. I had a quick search and found this poem that I quite like... but is there a truly beautiful poem that celebrates the plant itself rather than using it as a metaphor for us?

the dandelion seed
decides to open or shut
their parachute
depending on humidity
they can stay aloft
and travel
long distances
to where
the wind takes them
perhaps
they meet with
ballooning
young spiders
up there in the air
and discuss
weather currents