On The Dandelion Tea I Got In Glens Falls, New York

Ever want to eat dandelions as a kid? As an adult? The yellow flower? Stain your tongue gold?

Well, I got close to that deep and earthy riotĀ as I decided to drink some of the dandelion tea I got in Glens Falls, New York. Mind you, this isn’t a resolutely dandelion tea. I bought it for the nettles. But because I don’t really know what nettles are supposed to taste like (let alone what they really look like) I did not smell it as I put the tea cup up to my nose. I certainly didn’t taste it.

What I did taste is that strange astringency my friends and IĀ used to rub on each others arms in our front. It tasted the way you would expect a yellow plant would taste: dry and full.

And I’m organizing my room and packing a few things up because I expect to be moving soon. Somewhere in Philadelphia. Heading west, I think.

So, I drink this tea and I get this burst of energy, some shaky memory fused in the smell or the taste of the dandelion. And that whole chaos starts flooding in: The energy of memory locked in the brain. The energy of being a child. The energy of spreading out on a small patch of grass, staring up and looking through the clouds and into the sky.

I think that’s all for now.

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