A few months ago, I walked briskly down the sidewalk in my concrete encased neighborhood in northern Evanston. The dusty gray sky hung low over the stoic buildings. Trees and vines clung to their last bit of leafy freedom before the winter slowly dissolved all outward signs of life. The neighborhood was relatively quiet that day and I hurried home towards my cat, my cup of tea, and my endless pile of reading.
Suddenly, I tripped on a protruding panel of sidewalk – a concrete slab that was pushed up by some slow but persistent tree root. As I stumbled forward to catch my balance, I noticed something growing out of the break in the concrete – a single, lone dandelion. I paused because this was not something I expected to see in early October in the Midwest. Something about its short bright petals and dark green body caused me to stoop down and caress its stiff petals. It shone like the reflection of a sunbeam on the surrounding sidewalk.Read More