The sun's been shining for a week; time to add instant colour to the garden and hold back the weeds. I'd just yanked out my first weed (a large dandelion) when Paul announced tea. Feeling peckish I made myself a snack. I debated on washing my hands but as I'd only touched a single plant I didn't bother. "I doubt I'll poison myself" I reasoned.
In My Day
Things are so much more frightening when you're a child. There were many tales about the dangers of poisonous plants designed to put terror into your heart, Quite apart from Deadly Nightshade (the name gave you the shivers) there was the glorious Laburnum (why did people plant them in gardens where there were children? At least Deadly Nightshade was wild and couldn't help itself) and a host of attractive and lethal berries come autumn. I just about dared to pick and eat blackberries.
I remember one spring, entranced by the beauty of the Hawthorn, picking some sprays to perfume 4BH. When I told another child she looked horrified and trotted out some pre-druidical cant about "May" blossom in the house bringing bad luck. Sick with fear in case the house had collapsed or unimaginable disaster had hit my family I could hardly wait to get home from school and throw out every last fragment of the dangerous plant as Mamma looked on in bemusement.
Dandelions grew in every crevice in post-war London and we all held in fear the thick milky liquid that came out of the stems. One touch of it on your lips and you'd die in agonies, apparently. I believed it all and scrubbed away before I'd go near food.
Actually, it appears that all parts of the Dandelion are edible and that the sap has many beneficial properties. And my garden's looking beautiful while I'm feeling fine.
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