Dandelions

Becoming a Hag

In October 2022, I became a Hag.

I joined '@Sharon Blackie’s brilliant Hagitude programme, a year-long course that brought together women all across the world; women who were all in the second halves of their lives and who were discovering how to live fiercely and bravely and how to share their accumulated wisdom. Also how to reimagine their futures.

There were so many wonders and delights about the programme. Amazing speakers, thought-provoking prompts for writing, opportunities to talk with other Hags via Zoom chat rooms, workshops and very much more.

One of my favourite things was the ‘Growing Our Creative Confidence’ thread, which was curated and mentored by the wonderful @Tanya Shadrick, author of ‘The Cure for Sleep’. Every month, Tanya would offer us a prompt for writing and when we (often shyly) posted our pieces, she would respond with honesty, compassion, understanding and kindness.

Here is my response to one of Tanya’s prompts.

It was a real challenge, and it still doesn’t read quite how I wanted it to. Having lived most of my life wishing or believing that I was a character in a fairy tale, when I was given an opportunity to draw on myth or fairy tale to tell a story in which I take my power back, I was stumped. My well of inspiration ran dry: at first nothing, then way too much, came to mind. Too many stories; I loved them all and they all spoke to me in different ways! Then a small incident occurred outside my house and nudged me to write what follows. I don’t think it answers the prompt very well, and it’s not a piece of writing that I can really say I’m happy with, but it’s here because I enjoyed the ‘Growing Our Creative Confidence’ thread of Hagitude so much and because if I hadn’t responded to those prompts, I wouldn’t be posting anything right here, right now!

Dandelions

As I came out of the front door to get into my car, I saw three women waiting at the bus stop a few yards further down my street. It was a sunny morning, late Spring but chilly, so coats were on and buttoned up. They all had shopping trolleys, ready for their weekly trip into town. The bus would only be a few minutes, but there was time to chat while they waited. Plenty to catch up on. 

As I walked towards the car, my keys in hand, I could hear what they were saying. The one with the curly grey hair and purple coat was standing by my next-door-neighbour's front wall.

'Oh look! she said. 'He's chopped down all those dandelions that were in there! They're all gone!' She was leaning over the little wall, pointing and clicking her tongue. 

The others stopped peering down the road for the bus and turned to look over the wall too. 

'Oh dear,' said the one with the red coat. 'Look! Why’s he done that? It looks like it's been shorn! Nothing left but stalks and he's flattened those! What happened to all the flowers? They looked so pretty! ' 

'Humph', said the third, all wrapped up in her olive raincoat and tartan scarf. 'P'raps he just didn't know a wild flower when he saw one. Those dandelions were coming up lovely...and the nettles. What a shame - it looked beautiful and now it's as bald as a coot!'

'Oh,' said the first one, 'He most likely thought they were weeds. You know, plants nobody wants! Thought they had to go, that they didn't count for much, especially the sting-y ones!' 

'Be interesting to see what he puts in next!' said Red Coat. 

'Yeah,' said Olive Mac. 'He'll be off to the garden centre to get some 'proper' plants!'

They laughed.

The bus drew up and they climbed on board. Off to the shops. 

I watched them go and felt a little embarrassed. I'd been just about to set off to the garden centre myself. One of my flower beds needed some tlc, I thought, and I had been wondering about some nice colourful bedding plants to replace the sprouting dandelions and other plants that I didn’t think should be there. 

I walked out to the back garden and had a look at the yellow snaggly pettaled flowers proliferating in the bed. They turned their sunny faces up to me, smiling. Soon they would become clocks and their featherlight seeds would drift all over the garden...and there would be more. More weeds?

I thought about the three women and their conversation. Just because a plant finds its own way into a garden, grows there with happy abandon but is officially labelled a 'weed' doesn't mean that it isn't beautiful or useful. Lately I'd been reading about the health benefits of dandelions if you infused them or ate them and now here I was, about to evict them without mercy and replace them with something that might win more admiration but had less quiet fortitude and wisdom. I knew I hadn’t read anything anywhere about the health benefits of begonias and bizzie lizzies!

I knelt down by the dandelions and whispered to them. 'I'm sorry! I wouldn't like it if everyone thought I was a weed and not much good for anything! Not even a proper flower! Here's the deal: you stay and I'll look after you. And in return, you remind me that I'm a proper flower!' The dandelions nodded their heads in the breeze. 

I stood up, went out to the front and locked the car.