Dandy and Rose: A Valentine's Tale

A silly tale to mark February 14th, known as Valentine’s Day

Of all days for her to lose her hair it had to be today. Of course; that’s how her life seemed to go. No such thing as luck for her, or not good luck, anyway. Once the wind caught her white head of fluffy beauty, away it went on the breeze to who knows where. Now all she needed was to bump into Daisy or Rose or Petunia and that would put the tin hat on it. Maybe she should have worn a hat, she wondered. That might have averted the disaster that was her newly bald top, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Today of all days, it was going to be rough. No one would give her a second look. No. No, all eyes would be on the others. On Rose in particular. That she was merely a hot house wannabe mattered not one whit. Men lined up for her, women, too, these days. Equality being all the rage. Ha! No equality or respect for Dandy. She was always overlooked, even mocked as only a weed. But her roots went deeper than Rose’s ever would, and her taproot was a mean mother to deal with. Her head may be bare today, but her progeny would rule far and wide, carried on Brother Breeze and nurtured by Mother Nature. Let Rose have her silken petals. They would fade and fall soon enough, a mere few-days’ wonder, while Dandy’s tap root settled in to rise again another time.

“Nobody loves the head of a dandelion. Maybe because they are so many, strong, and soon.” Toni Morrison

My earliest memories of Valentine’s Day go back to Grade 1 or 2, when I recall the entire class writing each others’ names on flimsy cards and then exchanging them in what even back then I’m pretty sure I considered a somewhat bizarre organized and forced expression of friendship among not-yet-double-digit-aged youngsters. Heaven forbid that any one kid got more cards than another! Hence the dragooning (by teachers? by mothers?) to check off every name on the class list.

As an adult woman in an office, the stress of the day was no less: Tension mounted among us as the hours wore on. Who would get a delivery? And when it arrived, how lush and luxurious was it? How true the love expressed? Nonchalance was the name of the game for those of us without floral recognition due either to circumstance or choice; both were hard to explain.

On this day — and every day, really — acknowledge Rose in the vase, but cheer loud for Dandy, wherever her face pokes through. ’Tis she who needs the love more.

The origin of Valentine’s Day is a matter of some debate; check it out here and here.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo by Elijah Hiett on Unsplash