Taraxacum erythrospermum - Dandelions, as we call them.
I've always had a thing for them. Dandelions never failed to amaze me. You know, the way the bristles of a dandelion (the pappus) free themselves and fly to an unknown place, with the utmost grace, almost like they own the gush of air that takes carries them. I've always been at awe of them.
One day, in July, I was sitting in the front yard of my house, admiring a bunch of daisies, when suddenly, I felt a water droplet fall on my shoulder. I looked up, and another droplet fell on my forehead, then on my check. For a moment too long, I felt the water droplets fall on my skin carelessly. It was the first rain of the season.
I ran and stood in the verandah of the house, admiring the rain. Oh, rains intoxicate me.
But more intoxicated than me was a dandelion. Carelessly dancing with the raindrops. Ever so graciously.
After a few minutes of dancing, a gush of air passed the dandelion, urging the pappi to move along with it. Some moments later, the pappi gave up, one by one, and freed themselves from the dandelion, flying away with the air, to an unknown destination, with sheer elegance.
That day, in July, with each flying away pappus, I saw freedom. And ever since, I've been in awe of the dandelions - the Taraxacum erythrospermum