“Now,” she went on, “how many of you know why we are called Dandelions?”
And—will you believe it?—not one stupid little Dandelion could answer!
“That is just what I expected,” said grandmother, sternly, eyeing them over her glasses. “My, my! this is very sad!”
Then one little Dandelion, prompted by his mother, said he supposed it had something to do with dandies, while another bright little thing lisped out that she guessed it was because they were as fierce as lions.
“No, no!” and grandmother shook her head so briskly a silver hair went flying.
“Look at your leaves,” she said kindly, “and observe the edges. Learn to notice, florets; learn to notice.”
“The edges are pointed like sharp teeth, please, grandmother,” half whispered one bashful little fellow.
“Exactly,” said grandmother, proceeding learnedly; “our name is from the Latin, _dens leonis_, meaning lion’s tooth, but our botanical name is Taraxacum.”
“Oh, my!” sighed the little buds, for they didn’t understand a word of it.
“Our roots have healing properties, and they are employed in making medicine, while our leaves are used in the spring for food; so we are useful as well as ornamental.” And the grandmother beamed with pride.
“But, children, you must also know that we belong to the great and noble family of _Compositæ_.”
“Oh, dear!” gasped the little Dandelions.
“Now you know composite means made up of many parts; that is, each blossom is made up of many little florets. Study each other’s heads and you will understand my meaning. Now in this great family of _Compositæ_ there are many, many flowers besides the Dandelions. In fact, my children, we have over nine thousand relatives. Sunflowers, marigolds, asters, goldenrod, boneset, tansy, lettuce, and the daisy—all these belong to our family. Not only are we many, but we have the famous and the great among us—the thistle, royal flower of Scotland; the cornflower of Germany; the chrysanthemum, the emblem of brave little Japan—all these are composite flowers, our royal relatives.”
The Dandelion family wildly applauded, and grandmother graciously bowed her acknowledgment.
“But, my children,” she went on, “I would not have you forget we have also black sheep in the family—Spanish needles, ragweed, bitterweed, and beggar ticks; these, too, we must own, even though we bow our heads in shame. But so it is in all great families.”