There’s urgency on the wind this spring. World events feel so crushingly heavy. I find myself doom scrolling a little more every morning, despite knowing full well that it’s not going to make one single thing any better. In fact, it has the opposite effect. It feeds the machine. Reclaiming control over our own energy and attention is resistance. It gives us the space we need to do our good work in the world, to change the things that are in our power to change. Have you ever noticed how differently you behave when you’re feeling anxious, stressed, depressed, or exhausted compared to times when you’re feeling strong and confident and content? Chances are, on those bad days, you’re less likely to show compassion to other living beings. You’re less likely to invest in sowing good seeds of change. You’re more likely to take shortcuts and to self-soothe in ways that are counterproductive for your body and for the planet. Ask yourself this: who profits from your bad days?

And so, I resolved to cultivate a good day. I picked dandelions and violets and brewed a small batch of dandelion mead, which I will toast with loved ones in times of celebration. I made wishes on dandelion seed heads and blew the seeds everywhere. Unlike most farmers, I love having dandelions on my farm, and I even consider them one of my crops. Although they’re not native, they’re naturalized here, meaning they’ve already settled into the ecosystem. Their strong taproots aerate my dense clay soil, and help it recover from the hardpan state I found it in. Their sunny yellow flowers brighten the dreariest of days. The leaves, roots, and flower heads are edible and medicinal. They feed people, animals, and pollinators. They’re unfailingly dependable in the way they are able to grow and produce during every kind of weather. They feel like safety to me. They feel like joy.

Not only are dandelions edible, they’re one of my favorite foods. Dandelion pesto, dandelion veggie burgers, fried dandelion blossoms, wild greens tortillas, dandelion mead or kombucha, roasted dandelion root tea. I could eat them every day. The idea that people poison them to make more space for inedible grass is incomprehensible to me. They are one of the best plants in the lawn. If you have a yard full of edible plants, you are less reliant on the global industrial food system. High gas prices don’t affect the availability of dandelions. They’re not subjected to tariffs. They don’t require any agricultural chemicals or trucked-in inputs to grow. They consume zero ghost acres. They are a free gift from the Earth, price tag not required. Carbon footprint: zero.

Energized by my foraging break, I entered the greenhouse with renewed resolve. I planted several flats of squashes, melons, cucumbers, okra, and hibiscus. More good seeds. We all have different ways of caring for our communities and our places. This is mine. With every seed I sow, I sprinkle in love and hope and peace and strength. I water in blessings for the land, for the plants, and for all who consume their harvests. I’m dedicating extra attention and intention to my garden this spring. It feels especially important to sow as many good seeds as I can. Seeds of nourishment, of joy, of healing. I’m speaking quite literally for myself, but you could receive it metaphorically. Whatever your work is in the world, do it wholeheartedly. Do it unfailingly, and with purpose. Let it fill you with wild dandelion-yellow joy. Then blow those seeds of joy all over the world. You never know where they might take root.

Dandelion Recipes

Creamy Dandelion Pesto Spread
Dandelion Blossom Veggie Burgers
Wild Greens Wraps (Tortillas)