Dandelion (Taraxacum officionale)
Yesterday, while out for a walk, I took a picture of some dandelions just emerging from the green grass. I liked the way their little flowers dotted the green in a random, yet repeating pattern. It made me think of dotted patterns in sweaters and wonder whether I could create some similar seemingly random pattern.
This ever present flower is one of the most prolific plants in the world. It is so prolific that botanists have a hard time figuring out where it came from in the first place. It has taken over so readily in every place it goes that is as if it was always there, a bright dot of sunshine reflected back off of the earth.
When I was a child, there was a field behind my grandmother’s farmhouse that was completely full of dandelion heads in the springtime. The soil in that field must have been rich because the dandelion flowers were robust and tall, their bright domed heads quilting the entire field in gold. I used to go down into the field on sunny days and pick the long stalks until I couldn’t hold anymore in my hands. I remember feeling like I was holding sunshine. The bright yellow pollen coated my hands, my knees, sometimes my face. Once inside however, the dandelions lost their shine quickly. A jar of water couldn’t fool them into believing they were still in that field basking under the open sunlight. In some way, that is the beauty of dandelions, they don’t last. They are a fleeting joy.
A field of blooming dandelions creates a sea of yellow in a pasture in Barre, Vt., Friday, May 8, 1998. (AP Photo/Toby Talbot)
As you can tell, I love dandelions. I know my feelings aren’t shared by many who battle endlessly to remove dandelions from their yards and flower beds. What is it that frustrates people so much about their little yellow heads and puffy seeds? They are smart little plants, digging deep into the soil to hold on against eviction. They are able to access water and nutrients far below the surface that many other plants can’t get to. That is why you often see their leaves still green even when the rest of the field of grass is dry and browned. Their seed dispersal is equally brilliant and beautiful. Like many other Asteraceae species, Dandelions use wind to move from place to place, a method called anemochory. By attaching tiny puffballs to the ends of the seeds, they are able to travel long distances.
So what does this have to do with knitting?
I find that all my patterns and ideas come from observing the natural world around me, and the dandelion is by no means an exception!
Not only do dandelions have amazing color to them, but they have a lot we can learn from them in terms of pattern. First, the whorl shape of their leaves is not only beautiful, but smart. It covers the most ground area while still maintaining a pattern. Imagine a hat made in the pattern of the dandelion leaves! Well, after a quick search on Ravelry, I found that someone already has made one… and its really beautiful! You can see it here. What about the puffy down of the mature dandelion seeds? Think of the glorious angora hats that could be made! Or the pretty seed pattern that could be put on cuffs and yokes! Another idea I have is the carpeting of color that I remember from that field in my childhood. I imagine a thick yarn, bright in color, something that has hints of other colors popping through like the grass did below the bright flower heads. Think of the deep tap root of the dandelion- its nutritious, languid and tough. I can imagine a long slinky shawl made of flax or linen, tough, yet graceful.
As I mentioned before, I am not the only one who finds inspiration the this magical little flower. I found several other beautiful patterns on Ravelry by simply typing in the word “Dandelion”. Here are a few- the gorgeous shawlette which is pictured, a nicely patterned top, a little knitted dandelion puff!
A poem to send you on your way…
As promised, here is today’s poem written by a true friend of flowers, Emily Dickinson.
The Dandelion’s Pallid Tube
The Dandelion’s pallid tube
Astonishes the Grass,
And Winter instantly becomes
An infinite Alas —
The tube uplifts a signal Bud
And then a shouting Flower, —
The Proclamation of the Suns
That sepulture is o’er.
Dandelions alive in the frosty dead of winter
BeetKnits 