November dandi

The weather remains ridiculously warm, and on my trek today, I noticed something I hadn't thought to look for, but, based on decades of notes, should have expected. This would be fall-blooming Dandelions. Taraxacum officinale is, of course, one of the signature flowers of spring, and before this common weed blooms, its abundant rosettes of tooth-shaped leaves provide wild-plant harvesters with first-of-the-season natural salad greens. Later, country folk ferment the blossoms into a heady and potent dandelion wine, and after that, the seeds come, beloved by kids who'll blow them in every direction and read the number of offspring they might produce by seeing how many seeds are left on the plant after they've huffed and puffed. Then, the Dandelion is pretty much forgotten... until, that is, autumn when the number of hours of daylight approaches the same number we had in spring. If the temperature is suitably warm when this happens, the plant, its internal clock and calendar announcing the advent of "April," breaks into bloom.