As this place regenerates after the spruce, dandelions have slowly made their way back on to the croft. We are nested within the community forest and edged by a path network valued daily by dog walkers, cyclists, children, hedgehogs, an occasional otter, deer, squirrels, mice, voles, a few local cats, a whole gamut of big and wee birds and a variety of insects. It’s a fertile place.
Squatting half way up hill by this roving dandelion I’m surrounded by bird voices, children’s laughter, the distant drone of bagpipe practice and the glamorous zing of life. Amongst the buzz, plant voices don’t seem to get a look in – they counsel a different way of listening – and if we sense closely I think they’ll share some of the secrets of the 100 ways of being.
Dandelions are a pioneer plant but I can count on my hands how many have wandered onto the croft land over the past 6 years. Foxgloves and fireweed moved in straight away but dandelions kept hard to the edge. While the trees grow I hope to herd this blazing bitter uphill to the edge of the field.
Sun-and-moon-flower, I’m charmed getting to ken your superpowers.
