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Every year, my backyard harvests dandelions, probably because we have performed this spell many times.
My children and I always pick them when they first grow as well as when they go to seed. Like many people who share this tradition, we believe that each one grants a wish when all the seeds are blown from the stem. In fact, we often call them wishes instead of dandelions.
Once they turn into white, puffy cotton balls, pick some with your children. For each wish, you or your child can say the following out loud or to yourselves.
Dandelion in my yard,
I have come to set you free.
In return, hear my dreams.
Please grant this wish for me.
Make a wish and blow until all the seeds are set free.
By helping nature, she in return takes care of us.
I always try to tell my children to be careful what they wish for. This doesn't mean you can't make wishes to better yourself. Just don't wish harm on others or ask for something outrageous like all the toys in the world.
Performing this spell annually will also ensure that you and your children will have more wishes to make together next year.
Warning: If you are picky about your yard's appearance, DO NOT PERFORM THIS SPELL, LOL!
Below is a poem I wrote about our dandelion picking ritual.
Dandelion Seeds
In the Spring,
Dandelions grow in the backyard
down the hill,
where we sleigh ride in the Winter.
They stretch upward toward the sky,
like someone who has just awakened from night's sleep,
and bask in the warmth of the Spring sun.
My children pick the dandelions by the handful,
my youngest bringing me a token of his love
that I place in a small plastic cup of water
on my kitchen counter.
I look at them
as I cook dinner for a hungry husband,
and smile.
When they turn into soft white cotton balls
and dance in the gentle Spring breeze,
my children pick them again
and blow the seeds into the air.
Each one makes a wish
that I dare not ask
in case wishes really do come true.
The seeds float by with the wind
like tiny parachutes
and gently scatter in the lawn,
ensuring that there will be more wishes for us to make next Spring.
I pick one,
as instructed,
and blow the seeds with care
until the dandelion is but a stem in my hand.
My littlest son watches me
with an intense look upon his face -
I know he wonders what I wished for.
I do not tell him
that I want the moment to last just a bit longer.
Spring comes and goes -
again -
and again.
My son no longer picks dandelions.
They are left to grow as wild as the woods nearby.
Although this day passes with many moons,
the moment lives on forever as a memory.
Wishes really do come true.
August 7, 2002
(c) Kelli Sposato
Both spell and poem written by Lady of the Shadows
Please do not reproduce this spell or poem on the internet or for any reason other than personal use without permission. Feel free to contact me at [email protected] if you have questions regarding this site. Thank you. Background & Borders from:
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