O great—just what I need right now. I knew lawn care would soon become a necessary avocation after buying a house, but this I did not expect. Over the weekend I found myself pulling up dandelions that were growing out of cracks in the front steps. Since we compost, I laid them out on a slab, figuring when they dried out I could make them into more soil. (From which more dandelions will grow, I know, but still it just feels right.) I came back a day later to find that the dandelions had returned to the vertical position. Zombie dandelions! They apparently couldn’t stay dead. Now, I’ve been writing about demons for the past several months and I’d forgotten about zombies. Well, I did post about resurrection on Easter, but my short-lived digression left me unprepared for this.
Really, the persistence of life is a sign of hope. Perhaps dead zones, such as morality in Washington DC, will someday come back to life. There’s hope for a tree, Job tells us, even if cut down. These dandelions were a message for me. Don’t give up. Prior to religion being hijacked by theology it was a system intended to make life better for people. Human beings were more important than heretical thoughts. You help those who need it, regardless of what they believe. Or don’t believe. That was the point behind resurrection, I suspect—we can rise above all this dirt in which we find ourselves. There’s a nobility to it. Then again, fear trumps hope just about every time. The dandelions are rising and we have no hope of outnumbering them.
The ancients feared the dead coming back. It’s a primal phobia. All those things we buried with tears we hoped would stay the way we left them. Life, as Malcolm says, will find a way. Politicians, it seems, will find a way around it. Call it executive privilege or whatever you will, the end result is the same. The yellow-headed fuzzies will threaten you even when uprooted and left to dry in the sun. Now, our lawn isn’t pretty. Grasses of different varieties contend with weeds I’ve never seen before for scarce resources. I’ve never minded dandelions. They don’t ask much, only they now seem to be demanding the right to come back from the compost. And if we let that happen, all hope is lost.