STARVIN' THE DANDELIONS

I've got this notion that if you pull off the tops of dandelions that they'll starve. It's sort of like taking away someone's mouth, if you think about it. The bees can't come along and pollinate, and well, isn't the flower part where a lot of the food action is in a dandelion? I don't know, really. I'm not a scientist by trade, and certainly by the looks of any plant I've ever been on the side of trying not to kill, it's clear I'm not a botanist either.

Perhaps the word butcher would be a more suitable fit.

I'm sure I look like a bonafide damned fool trekking through the yard with my pail in hand, plucking off those yellowy flower tops. Then again, it's always a mighty dandy site (no pun itended) to look across the freshly plucked yard and see only patches of green.

Voila! Success. Take that you damned wicked weeds!

I laugh all the time at my neighbor who bothers to pay those guys who come along and spray chemicals on his grass, and then put up those nifty little white signs that read "Treated Lawn—Keep Off Grass." Even if I must concede that he does, in fact, have the best looking lawn on the block.

But I've got the way, plucking those dandelions out of my own lawn. I need pay no one. I need no special dandelion expunging chemicals. Starvin' the little bastards is what I do. And it's free, aside from my time, and depending on the day, maybe just a tiny crick in my back from all that bending down.

At least that's my thought. That is, until the next day. Then the laughter stops. As I walk out and peer over the green landscape, only to find that they've returned. The dandelions. There they are like tiny yellow soldiers standing afoot in my lawn. I cry foul. I feel like a fool. Defeat is swift. Damnit all!

But not for long.

For I've got the power of my wits, and my pail is empty. And just as the day before, I begin picking them off one by one, tossing the little yellow bulbs into the pail. Hah, hah, hah, I've got you! A sinister grin forms on my lips. I'll win this fight. Eat your heart out Mr. Neighbor with your pristine green lawn.

You see, I've got this notion that if you pull off the tops of dandelions they'll starve.

ALSO BY JIM BAUER:

TO KILL A FLY
LOTTERY PAYOUT: THE DREAM OF THE BIG WIN
USS ENTERPRISE (CVN-65): A LOOK BACK