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Something about this part of a sketch (I have left out a lot !) has spoken to me several times.  I have finally yielded to the call and painted it.

Now the real peculiarity is that I have sent it to England as my 90th birthday present for a much-treasured sister-in-law, who just happens to be one of the most enthusuastic and devoted of gardeners.   It may well be the only dandelions that she will ever have ! At least they will stay where they are put, and not spread seeds all over her garden and the neighbours.

Amazingly, I discovered that, despite all the hundreds of dandelions that I have picked, dug, pulled, mowed, and even sworn at, I wasn't that certain about the shape of their leaves.  Too blinded by the cloud of rage, perhaps ?  Seems rather odd, at that, as I would happily accept their cheery yellow heads in MY garden, but the local passion seems to be pure green, with no yellow dots to set it off.  I feel compelled to try to follow suit--although, you should see the gaudy collection in the garden of the empty house on the corner.  It surely isn't ALL my fault if the neighbourhood goes to seed, is it ?  I may be entirely too well-practised in the art of guilt.  Should spend more time on art !

Off I go !