Did you hear the story on the radio about Emily Dickenson and her dandelion garden? They are growing weeds at the New York Botanical Garden in her honor. She said she herself felt like the wild flower and used to give people bouquets of flowers with her poetry tucked inside (sounds like all the emails I send). I’ve actually been using the mature dandelion in an informal de-puffing ritual to bring about all of my wishes and hopes for years now. It is my most sacred superstition.
I found this on my walk today – over half the wishes left on it:
A woman walking by asked “oooh does it have a ladybug on it?” Please. Nobody is THAT lucky.