Edible Guests
Though my horror at the annual spread of The Ugly Plant belies it, I really do try to appreciate the generous plants that arrive voluntarily in our yard. I especially appreciate them around meal time, as do the birds that consider this their yard.

Dandelions are a constant visitor here. I have pulled their tops and then watched them re-grow so often that I am in danger of forming pet names for a few of the tougher individuals. The entire root must come out to remove a dandelion but that’s impossible after the first few months so weed them young or learn to love them.

If you pull the leaves off while small, throw them in your dinner salad. They are so vitamin rich, they are likely to be the most nutritious crop growing in a garden. They taste green if young, green and bitter if mature. Birds will feed on the seeds if you let the flowers go that far, but I wouldn’t if I were you.

Young purslane leaves are actually very tasty, pleasantly crunchy and citrusy. I haven’t been bold enough to try something I think is Lamb’s Quarters, because I’m not positive that’s what it is. Whatever its name, it has the grace to understand that if it’s put on the compost heap, its day is done. Perhaps this year, I'll go identify it and try it on the table.

If you pull a thistle early, it doesn’t have the heart to come back. And if you don’t pull it early, the goldfinches will come into your yard and entertain you with astounding feats of agility, as they cling to swaying stems and feed on the seedheads bobbing above them. A bird feeding area leaves a very seedy mess beneath it, of course. Our feeders hang above a thin gravel layer covering unimproved clay. As the winter rains began, the seed sprouted in a thicket of assorted grasses.

Some looked suspiciously like spreaders, staying low and sending out arms with small plantlets at the ends. They’ve been yanked and not even given the honor of re-cycling. Others look like broom corn and millet and I look forward to next summer when they form their seed heads. I’m sure the feathered gardeners who planted them feel the same way.

Text and images Copyright 1998 Cyndi Kirkpatrick. All rights reserved