dandelion demolishings

I came home this afternoon frustrated. Frustrated by what felt like a wasted day of unsuccessful immigration attempts and job-hunting floundering. So when I got to the house I asked Oma if I could mow the lawn. It didn’t need mowing. I begged her to give me something useful, helpful . . . instant, that I could do in the garden. She understood me [I guess it figures that she would. And she gave me the most perfect job imaginable. I spent the rest of the afternoon, shovel in hand, cutting off at the root and then manually uprooting all the dandelion patches I could find in the lawn. I demolished those dandelions with gusto, I dare say.
Since a photo of uprooted weeds is not terribly interesting, instead I offer another shot of Oma’s garden, with an additional tidbit. I just learned that all that grows in her garden came from seeds not bought. Personally, I find it awfully inspiring that this beautifully sprawling bunch of blooms came entirely from her own creativity over the years, in bits gleaned from here and there–recycled, and “green,” in the truest sense of the word.