Tooth of a lion
People who pay attention and count things claim that Americans apply as much as 80 million pounds of pesticides on lawns every year. Think about how hard it is to be a worm in those kinds of neighborhoods. Some of this toxic onslaught is focused on controlling dandelions, and that’s just silly.
People with dirty hands, clipboards and a sunhats report dandelions are beneficial to lawns. Their long, strong taproots loosen and aerate the soil plus the root draws minerals from below toward the surface, thereby providing nutrients for neighbors. For centuries native cultures throughout Asia and Europe valued dandelions, accommodated them in gardens and found uses for every part of the plant.
But last century, chemical companies on our continent convinced new suburban homeowners that lawns were dreamy, no one should be without one, and that to end, “We offer sprays and powders you can spread liberally over your lawn area and reapply often to rid your soil of unwanted weeds (plants) making room for lawn of the month.” Pity the crickets.
So, how about this idea – let’s uproot lawns to make room for dandelions and their indigenous peers. Doesn’t have to be the whole neighborhood at once, but we’re born to be wild. This was an age-old strategy near households before chemical indoctrination.
People (just like us) have grown dandelions on purpose for food and medicine for millennia. Arab healers prescribed it. Chinese households used dandelion tea to soothe digestive upsets and liver issues. It was the English who brought to this continent not only Faulty Towers but dandelions.
English botanists Nicholas Culpeper and John Gerard wrote about dandelions in their books on medicinal plants, and I wonder where they got the paper on which they wrote their books, and who made the ink? Was ink expensive? They both recommended dandelion tea as a digestive aid and detoxifier, and Gerard suggested pairing dandelion leaves with lentils. Culpeper suggested soaking both roots and leaves in white wine and drinking it as a soothing diuretic which also provided nutrients.
Our word dandelion came from “dent de lion,” or lion’s tooth, French name for the plant. There are more than 200 dandelion varieties, plus chicories are close cousins. Dandelions will grow anywhere, even waste areas, further evidence of their rogue nature. If a well-intentioned gardener grabs a handful of dandelion leaves and yanks them off but leaves the root, the root will respond by sending up more leaves, maybe in two places. And what if a small piece of a root lands unnoticed on the ground instead of in the leaf mulch pile? The discarded root piece has the intelligence and creativity to re-root and sprout new leaves.
Also, dandelion flowers fade into delightful downy globes of seeds which we blow on to watch them disperse thereby increasing the chances for more dandelion plants.
The leaves are a storehouse of vitamins, minerals and antioxidants. I use dandelion leaves as a leafy vegetable with bean or rice dishes or even in one of my famous casseroles. To make a dandelion tonic, clean a root thoroughly, submerge it in a jar of vodka, secure the lid on the jar and place it in a dark corner for a month or so. Then strain the liquid into another jar and use appropriately for stomach problems or as a general vulnerary.
Also bake the cleaned roots, then grind them for a substitute for morning coffee.
Important to know is a lab study revealed that dandelion root extract helped prevent liver damage in rats, so if your rats are gin topers, now you know…
Dandelion flowers are an early season stop for pollinators, but people like them, too. They are a source of nutrients, and two handfuls of flowers soaked in a cup of hot water for a while will provide an infusion if you need one. There are also fairly easy recipes for using dandelion flowers to make wine. Takes about six months, so plan ahead.