Imagine sitting in a field, holding a dandelion up to the warm African sun, and blowing to scatter dozens of seeds; like hopes, dreams, and wishes that you may have.
We have so many of these spring up in our gardens that our first instinct is to rip them out without a second thought. It's strange though how differently we respond to them in fields. In fields they're beautiful. We pick them and admire their delicate construction. They make us feel nostalgic. We blow on them to see the seeds take to the air in the most relaxing manner. We marvel at these perfectly-crafted seed-distributing machines.
Isn't our love/hate relationship to these plants so very strange?