#this one. low effort as it is. flowers blooming out of some cheese is cool to my brain for some reason.

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife

AO3 :: Previously

XVI

With an aching heart, I set about helping the remaining healthy sisters keep order about the hospital. Without Mother Hildegarde at the helm, morale was low and the situation desperate. There were barely enough supplies to allow us to help the sick, and the garden in wintertime mostly bare of the most essential of herbs and plants.

I changed back into my workaday clothes, folding the yellow dress into the trunk in my cell. I laid the pearls within the skirts with infinite care, a token of Jamie’s love for me. The silver of my wedding ring gleamed on my finger—that, I would keep with me always.

That first day was the hardest. I could not help my mind wandering back to thoughts of Jamie, of our wedding night. When we had said our vows on the bridge, I had not imagined that we might ever be separated again—least of all so soon. I had pictured us traveling together, enjoying a counterfeit honeymoon of sorts, before facing the challenge of the MacKenzies at Castle Leoch. It was also the thought of him that kept me going through that dark night, cleaning up after patients and cooling fevered brows. I did not think I would ever get the smell of vinegar off me.

Malva kept her distance, the cut on her cheek reminding me (and hopefully her) what I was capable of if she interfered once more. She was morose but helpful, carrying basins of water and cleaning soiled pallets and cloths. Laboring tirelessly with other sisters, I had twice the work, checking on those she tended to when she was gone to make sure she was not hurting them. The ravaging effects of smallpox could last up to thirty days but I would not be able to stay that long.

I endeavored to work as far away from her as possible; I remained close to Madame Bonheur and Madame de Ramelle, who had also been called upon to assist our efforts in the hospital. At dawn the next day, Sister Angelique woke me from a light sleep. I had sat in the sick room, too wary to return to my cell with Malva around. I stirred and was immediately alert.

“Yes, Sister?”

“Cherchez Maître Raymond. We have dire need of febrifuges and he may have a store of dried herbs. We are almost all out.” She handed me the woven basket as though this were any other day. “Ask him to come, if he can.” I stopped to clean my hands as I left, and tied on a new face mask as an added measure.

The streets were devoid of people, most citizens aware of the danger of smallpox and staying away from the convent and hospital grounds. Even Jamie had so far kept his promise. The mere thought of my husband again released an ache in my chest. Keeping busy had been the best remedy for the pain of not having him near. How could I know if he was alright?

I felt a vague uneasiness as I made my way onto Rue de Varenne to Monsieur Raymond’s apothecary shop and met no one on the road. I stepped up to the door, surprised when it did not yield as I pushed. There was no merry tinkling bell; the shop was closed. I noticed that one of the windows was smashed, Exasperated, I tugged my mask down, shoving wayward curls out of my face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Madonna.”

Master Raymond’s voice cut through the air, and I jumped back, startled. He was peeking out from the alley next to the shop, from an old unused door that was usually boarded up. He looked frail and worn, his old joviality muted.

“Maître Raymond! What has happened?” I cried, stepping into the alley.

“People are frantic. The smallpox, it has spread further into the city. Some came to me for aid, others to destroy. Quel dommage.” His tone was that of a man resigned, but I detected a hint of fire behind his words.

“That is precisely why I am here. L’Hôpital des Anges is lacking remedies, we are tending to many of the sick. Monsieur, we have need of your help—”

“I’m afraid I cannot help you much, Madonna. When illness strikes, remember it is often the healers who are blamed. I am leaving Paris for a time, child, until everything returns to normal. Here, take these.” He held out a parcel wrapped in cheesecloth.

I unwrapped it briefly, and saw willow bark, dried yarrow, basil, calendula, sassafras, and peppermint. “Thank you, monsieur. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Rien, ma chère. I will return. I always do. But if I could—a warning. Beware of the grey. Seek the red man.” Maître Raymond crept back inside the shop, with a final, “Adieu, Madonna.”

The red man could only be Jamie. But I could not seek him yet, for I could still carry the disease. With his cryptic warning, I hurried back to the hospital. As I crossed through the garden door for faster access, I spotted a bright cluster of hellebore—the winter rose—on the step, tied with blue ribbon the same hue as Jamie’s eyes. I scooped it up and held it to my nose, face buried in the fragrant blooms. I looked around, but could see no one. I smiled for the first time. Hellebore meant tranquility, protection against lies, scandal, or anxiety. I had wished I could get a message to Jamie, but the city was practically quarantined and I would not risk sending someone that could potentially carry smallpox along with my letter. But I should have known better than to think Jamie would be so patient.

The next day, after an intense battle with Monsieur Forez to discourage him from bleeding patients, I ventured outside for fresh air and solace. There was a small bouquet of cheerful purple pansies. I thought perhaps Jamie was raiding Jared’s garden at Rue Tremoulins; I pictured him cutting flowers and making his way to the hospital to leave them at my door. The image lifted my spirits immensely, even as concern mingled equally with joy.

Still clutching my pansies, I went back inside to have a quick meal of bread and cheese and ale in the refectory. Sister Madeleine found me there, saying Mother Hildegarde was asking for me. Leaving the pewter mug and wooden bowl on the table, I rushed to the abbess’s side. She had been quite delirious the past two days, recognizing no one and speaking in her native German. If she was lucid enough to say my name, I thought it was good news.

Grabbing a clean cloth, I dipped it in water and witch hazel, laying it across Mother Hildegarde’s brow. Her face was not yet stippled with the telltale rash of smallpox. “I’m here, ma mère. Ça va?”

“Claire. What are you doing?” she asked in a rasping voice.

“You asked for me,” I replied, confused. “I am helping the sick.”

“No. You must leave. Your Jamie…”

“He is alright, he understands,” I said soothingly, taking the cloth and dabbing it on Mother Hildegarde’s flushed skin. “He is my husband now.”

A smile flickered on the edges of her mouth. “Je suis heureuse d'entendre cela.” Quick as a blink, her mood change, and she frowned. “I am also sorry I doubted your word, Claire. I know now you were not guilty of what happened with the belladonna or that poor woman.”

“How did you know?”

“God has shown me the error of my ways. I will join Him soon enough in heaven.” Her breathing wheezed, and a chill overtook her voluminous body. She was sweating profusely; she reached up, tearing at her nun’s veil. As it fell away, it revealed a head of closely cropped, iron grey hair.

“Do not say that, Mother, please. I will not let that happen,” I said, my eyes filling with tears.

“It is for God to decide, not us. I wanted to say… I am glad you came to us. Dear Julia and I will watch over you, do not fear…” Mother Hildegarde’s eyes drifted closed, and she fell into a restless sleep. I glanced up, and met Malva’s gaze.

[chainofclovers]

Modern Love (Grace/Frankie) - 8. Thresholds and Cheese

We’ve come to the end of the 300-word noun prompt fics! This last one is for my dear @bristler, who prompted cheese, and I figure if I’m gonna write cheese-oriented fanfiction for my literal wife I might as well also write about own of my own favorite nouns. So here’s “Thresholds and Cheese,” coming in at 600 words. What can I say; I’m undisciplined, I love thresholds even though they’re terrifying, and cheese is delicious.

Along with the last chapter (which does earn an M rating) I’m reposting the other stories here behind the cut, with recipient tags in case y’all would like to check out the finished product. Thank you all for your prompts; this was so fun to write.

This way for Pickle, Thistle, Crumpet, Tea, Ephemera, Trestle, Baby, Thresholds, and Cheese, starring Grace and Frankie!

1. Pickle, for @telanu

“If you have to abandon our home to be somebody else’s wife, you can at least support my amateur fermentation efforts.”

Whenever Grace isn’t waiting impatiently for Frankie to catch up, she’s a hundred miles behind. She should know better than to get distracted while Frankie talks about her hobbies. “‘Somebody else’s’—?” The wind off the ocean isn’t as loud as it was the morning she told Frankie about her marriage, but her voice still fades against the waves. They’re only a few steps down the beach from the house; sometimes, just for a few seconds, she tricks herself into believing she still lives here. “‘Fermentation’—?”

“Pickles, Grace. Cukes. Radishes. Watermelon rinds. As I was saying, I need a side project to take my mind off the debilitating loneliness—plus you can’t boss me around the kitchen anymore.” Grace hears her perfectly well. Frankie hasn’t always been so flippant about Grace’s obligations, but the marriage is already three weeks old.

Although Grace obliges Frankie over the days that follow their latest beach walk, there isn’t much to support: just a cluster of jars in the fridge. She’s an observer, not a sous chef. She admires the progress every time she comes over—some of the recipes take only a few days, but even in that short time she catches a variety of nearly imperceptible stages. “Wow, it’s just like you see at the grocery!” she says, pointing at the dill seeds floating in one of the newest jars.

“I may be an amateur, but I’m no schlub.”

Grace smiles. “No. You aren’t.”

“Oh, God. Do you even like pickles?”

“Um. Yeah, sure. I mean, I’ve spent virtually no time thinking about them.”

“Until now?”

“Until now.”

There’s something fitting about Frankie’s experiment: a long wait, a slow transformation, miniature oceans of brine.

2. Thistle, for @ellydash

“It’s just a day trip,” Grace says when Nick insinuates he wishes she wouldn’t go. “She’s lonely,” she adds, hating herself for telling only half the story, getting what she wants by teaming up with Nick. He delights in being her partner-in-schemes, but Grace is embarrassed whenever they tackle Frankie—her tremors, whims, navigable needs—like backseat drivers or inside-jokers.

But it works, and now she has a whole day with Frankie, and it isn’t normal, this isn’t a normal response to a day—despite not having a hard and fast ETA for their return to San Diego tonight, Grace keeps counting the probable number of hours left. She drives very close to the speed limit on their way to Cuyamaca Rancho State Park, as if avoiding high and low speeds will create a kind of stasis which might neutralize time. Frankie stirs restlessly in the passenger seat, humming a tune just out of the range of recognition.

When they arrive, it doesn’t take long to realize even the shortest hiking trail is too much for Grace’s knees. Frankie won’t entertain any attempt at apology. “Stop it,” she says. “It’s fine. We’ll wander around close to the Visitor Center, and picnic at the tables by the stream when we’re ready.”

The park is full of late season blooms: goldenrod, prairie-fire, cobweb thistle. The flowers streak together in Grace’s vision, burn cool like a migraine behind her eyes even though their colors are warm. After so often standing with Frankie at the edge of the entire Pacific, there’s something tender about the creeks—their visible edges, comprehensible scale, willingness to rest against the land and cooperate with flowers.

“I like thistles,” Frankie says. “They’re prickly so predators don’t eat them.” She glances at Grace, and the hair stands up on the back of Grace’s neck.

3. Crumpet, for @amk-1992 

It was Frankie’s responsibility to pack the picnic. Grace sits across from her at their picnic table not far from the Visitor Center, no idea what will come out of Frankie’s backpack. Because she wasn’t there when Frankie packed it. Because she pulled up to the house this morning and Frankie was already standing in the driveway, ready to go.

“There’s no booze in here,” Frankie says. “I’ll tell you that right up front. Hashtag sorrynotsorry.”

Shame, a slimy wet slug of it, streaks through Grace, doesn’t evaporate right away even after the chill is gone. “Didn’t expect any,” she says. There’s a difference between expectation and hope.

“I did, however, bring these crumpets I got at Trader Joe’s. Seemed kinda classy for a day trip.” Frankie wiggles her chin and shimmies her shoulders a little, as if to simultaneously mock and participate in sophistication.

“I think you’re supposed to toast those,” Grace says, a revenge for hashtag sorrynotsorry she immediately regrets. Grace doesn’t know what the f— to do with a crumpet. She only said something because she can read the heating instructions on the package.

Frankie seems flustered by the feedback. Frankie, who didn’t bat an eye at Grace’s keys in the birthday cake, who squatted her even after years of insults. “Well,” she says, rummaging for the next item. “We’ve also got the house-made pickle tray. Except—except this is a state park—and this is the pickle—Tupperware container—”

“Oh. Frankie. Don’t cry.” Grace regrets that too, because Frankie was the one who taught her not to shut someone down with a don’t crywhen you could validate their emotional state with a let it all out.

Grace eats a lot of pickles, eats more than Frankie does, compliments every variety, goes back for more and more and more.

4. Tea, for @themirrorofink

It was exciting to rush back to the car when the skies opened over Cuyamaca Rancho, but after an hour driving with reduced visibility, Grace is mostly aware of her tense posture and still-sopping clothes.

When Grace pulls up to the house, Frankie says, “It’ll take you at least thirty minutes to get back to Nick’s in this mess. You can come up and change.”

Frankie has never explained why Grace is welcome in the house some days and not others, why she waited outside this morning but sometimes wants Grace to come inside to look at pickle jars and sit in the kitchen drinking coffee. Inside, it doesn’t feel possible to go up to her old bedroom and choose from the clothes they both know are still there. (“You can’t come and go all the time,” Frankie said the week Grace moved out. “Think of this as a storage unit, not a second house.”) Frankie sets her backpack on the counter. “I’ll grab you something while I’m changing,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

Grace puts the teakettle on, pulls the crumpets from the backpack and tosses a few in the toaster, busies herself pulling butter and cherry preserves from the fridge, knives from the drawer.

“Oh,” Frankie says softly when she comes back and sees the impromptu tea in motion. She stands next to Grace and hands her a t-shirt and sweater from her own closet, nothing particularly flamboyant about her selection.

Grace points to another room with her chin. “Should I—?”

But Frankie reaches out, touches Grace’s wet sleeve, flashes an almost unreadable smile. Grace’s heart pounds. She and Frankie hold hands, fight, hold each other, follow each other around, but their intimacy has never included undressing.

The kettle whistles and they startle, propelled into busyness again.

5. Ephemera, for @ephemeral-winter

Grace stirs with the early sun, registers the sound of the shower running, and in that moment when wakefulness takes over for sleep, her brain reaches to collect yesterday’s details so they don’t scatter, to have them under the covers with her, to be alone with them while she can.

If it hadn’t rained, they’d have stayed out longer, timed their return so they could stop for dinner on the way home. Instead, she made it back to Nick’s by dinnertime, not hungry anymore. In the elevator to the penthouse, she’d pulled Frankie’s sweater closer to her body, breathing it in with the knowledge she’d wear it for another ten minutes tops. Before that, she and Frankie had sat with strong black tea and toasted crumpets dripping with butter and preserves, such a contrast to the pickles, though those were surprisingly competent for a first effort. Before that—after Grace silenced the kettle but before they sat down for tea—they’d stood together in the storm-darkened kitchen, and Grace took off her wet blouse, aware of Frankie looking at her, and Frankie handed her a clean kitchen towel but didn’t quite let go, asked if it was okay to help her dry off. Then Frankie pulled the impossibly soft t-shirt over Grace’s head, guided her arms through the sleeves with a reverence not usually afforded an old friend, nor an old shirt with “The Kinks” on the front, a souvenir Frankie managed to keep forever.

Grace misses the shirt against her skin, wants it under the covers with her. She reaches for her phone. Frankie’s sent a 2 a.m. text, more ephemera-turned-forever, this time by the internet: thank you for our day

I don’t want to give your clothes back, Grace writes, and imagines Frankie waking up to the words.

6. Trestle, for @farmerdamsel

Grace always liked the morning after moment in the movies, when the woman has slept with the man for the first time and puts on his discarded dress shirt and wears it at breakfast like a badge of pride. Like she’s the first person to think of doing such a thing. You got me, the shirt seems to help her say, but I’ve got you, too.

She tried it once, the morning after one of the earliest nights Robert stayed over at her first San Diego apartment. The night before, he’d laid his shirt on her vanity table, and she looked at herself in the mirror as she buttoned it, tried to think happily about Robert taking a shower not ten feet away. The pale blue shirt smelled like his cologne, and more faintly of sweat. In it she looked like a kid dressing up as a businessman. She took off the shirt in a hurry, scrambled to put her pajamas on and start coffee in the kitchenette before Robert could emerge and suggest going out for omelettes.

Unlike the rest of the penthouse, Nick’s guest room has an south-facing window. Grace stands in front of it wearing Frankie’s Kinks shirt, looking out from a new angle at the night-carved lightlines of her most familiar city. Her throat is drought dry after so many apologies, her brain full of the feeling of leaving in the morning. Nick knows. Frankie knows. Grace keeps taking handfuls of the shirt in her hand, then smoothing the cotton against her torso again. Tomorrow she’ll board a train that will take her up the coast for two days, and down again not long after that, the engine the only thing moving her forward, the tracks and trestles doing all the work to hold her up.

7. Baby, for @nicoljean

On the train Grace has only one job, which is to let her thoughts run free. To find out what she thinks about when she’s alone by choice for the first time.

She’s never felt safer than she does on the train, peering out her window at the glittering ocean. Getting married was supposed to be safe—the abundant safety of ending each day with someone. But she spent the marriage fighting for scraps of time with Frankie. In marrying Nick she’d done what she always does: create unnecessary scarcity. She’s finished with that now. Alone, then not-alone.

Frankie offered to take her to the station, but Grace insisted on the aloneness of a cab. “Wait up for me when I come home, please?” she asked. When she takes the same route in reverse, five days from now, the train will return to San Diego in the middle of the night. She’ll take a cab then, too, wide awake on the drive back to La Jolla, will see Frankie for the first time since they decided—

When her thoughts run free, she mostly thinks about Frankie.

Grace’s phone buzzes. Frankie’s texted.

Ba

    by

Frankie texts again shortly after:

Oh god was practicing typing you sexy things for when you return an honest woman, tried deleting but got into a little return situation then a spacing situation and then a sending accidentally situation

“Young lady,” says the middle-aged man across the aisle. Grace has avoided him since he got on board. “Young lady,” he says again. F—ing hell, he’s talking to her. “There’s only one thing that could make a woman smile like that, and that’s a gentleman.”

“Oh my God,” Grace says, and it hits her: she doesn’t have to say anything else. She turns back to the window, still smiling.

8. Thresholds and Cheese, for @bristler (and me)

Grace returns in the middle of the night, crosses from train to cab to house. The house envelops her, Frankie envelops her, Frankie kisses her, Frankie gives her food and a nightcap, Frankie lays out a towel and pajamas while Grace washes away the invisible grime of travel. Frankie waits in Grace’s bed.

Grace wasn’t sure if it would happen so soon, sex, but they both want it, and when it happens in the still-middle of that long night it doesn’t feel soon. This is her reentry, the moment she kept imagining from the otherworldliness of the train, her homecoming—and Frankie enters her again and again, each motion returning her to her home, coming in Frankie’s arms, and then inside Frankie, because she comes again when she feels Frankie come around her fingers. Pulse, heartbeat, drumbeat; arrival and arrival and arrival.

When it’s over, part of her worries they have to talk about her mistake now. Again. But Frankie kisses her forehead, says “I’m so glad you’re home,” and then the room is dark.

The next day is thick with sleepiness. By early evening they’re on the couch together. Frankie wears a t-shirt, no bra, no long sleeves, a compliment for Grace, and Grace touches her, and it makes Frankie shove a hand up her own shirt, their fingers meeting through the thin fabric. Grace feels a sob roll through her. If she exhales, she’ll start to cry—long night, long day, home after absence, those strengths and weaknesses. It’s inevitable, breathing, and the tears come. “Baby,” Frankie says, in real three-dimensional life this time. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

They’ve just gotten rid of Frankie’s shirt altogether when a key turns in the lock and the front door opens. “Hey, Frankie!” Brianna yells.

“Oh, shit,” Frankie mutters. She wraps a blanket from the back of the couch around herself. If the goal is to make oneself technically decent, the blanket does the trick. If the goal is to imply a fully-clothed person lounges beneath it, the blanket is insufficient.

“I know I didn’t text, but I do wanna say hi to mom, wherever she is, and Thursday’s Thursday, right? I got brie! And a sheep’s milk Cabrales thing.”

“Baaaaaa,” Frankie bleats.

“Just gonna grab some of those pickles and I’ll be right in!”

“I think I’m double-booked,” Frankie says mildly.

“Seems like it,” says Grace, voice warbly and awful.

Brianna stops short when she enters the room, arms full of Grace’s favorite cutting board, a pickle jar, knives, blocks of cheese, a box of Triscuits. “Mom. You’re here. You’re crying. And there’s a ninety percent chance Frankie’s shirtless, considering the shirt on the floor and the weirdness with the blanket. And I’m—I’m narrating. Is this really happening?”

Frankie turns to Grace. “This is Get High and Eat Cheese Night, a Thursday ritual. Kinda like how we’re just starting Touch Boobs and Cry Night. Except I completely spaced it, and for this week only, these very distinct events are experiencing some unfortunate overlap.”

“I can leave,” Brianna says, “very quickly. Except I really, really want some of your pot, Frankie, and I haven’t seen Mom in about a thousand years.”

She isn’t surprised, Grace realizes. Because she already knows. She’s embarrassed, but unshocked, and only embarrassed on the surface, because she marched in with cheese, focused on her own tradition.

“Just leave for two minutes,” Grace says. “For the sake of Frankie’s shirt. I’ll go with you.”

Grace looks back at Frankie as she follows Brianna the kitchen. They grin at each other, like even two minutes will be too long.

[femme-blem]

Death Warmed Over

I promised my soul to @terra-haven for writing that Spring Felicia piece, so I wrote some Hel fluff in return! This is rated e for everyone so the lord won’t be upset for reading it on his second birthday. Hope you enjoy!

.....

Basket. Dishes. Cutlery. Food. Hel watched as you arranged the items on the blanket you'd spread, fussing with the placements in an effort to make everything perfect. Hel required nothing to sustain her infinite unlife, but the effort you put into the date made it appealing enough to partake.

But that would have to wait. You were still "setting up," as it were, and the sovereign of Death was nothing but patient. Instead, she brought her gaze to the field around her.

The moment winter's chill had vanished, you'd taken Hel's arm and begged her to go on an outing to one of Askr's picturesque meadows. Hel did not understand the term you'd used, nor did she understand its purpose after you'd explained its meaning. You looked so hopeful, though, and if indulging you in this strange tradition would bring you happiness, she would do it gladly.

That was how she found herself kneeling on the blanket at this "picnic," observing the signs of spring firsthand. The flowers had started to bloom, the odd creatures that populated so much of this realm scurried through the grass and the treetops, and the clearing was teeming with so much life that she could feel its hum in the very air.

A fitting setting for one as lively as you.

You were the most animated soul Hel had met in all her thousands of centuries of existence, with a zeal for life and living that was unmatched. Every interaction, every task was met with such gusto, and Hel supposed it was the selfish, possessive part of her that desired to keep so bright a spirit all to herself.

It had surprised her how readily you agreed to her proposition. You had surprised her, a being unfathomably old, who has been and done and seen so much. As enthusiastic as you were for life, you were more than willing to submit yourself to the goddess of Death. You would remain together for as long as you drew breath, and would rule by her side long after it stopped.

"Done!"

An excited clap brought her attention back to the scene before her. And a charming scene it was - carefully cut sandwiches, an assortment of sliced fruits and vegetables, a block of cheese, crackers, cookies...you had really put your all into the meal, and it showed. Then she saw your eyes, bright and expectant. A little nervous, even?

"It looks delightful," Hel said, voice low and gentle as the slight breeze that cooled the day’s warmth. "Thank you for preparing this."

You beamed under the praise and began piling up your plate. Hel noticed that her own plate had already been filled with a little of everything, likely so she could try a bit of each and figure out her tastes first. The consideration you show her is touching.

She brought a sandwich to her lips and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Its contents were crisp and refreshing, somehow complementing the surrounding scenery. A few pink petals fall from the trees above. It was strange, being here, in a place and season so far from anything Hel was familiar with. But it was not unpleasant.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" You sighed happily and turned to Hel, a shy blush creeping across your face. "I'm so glad we got to do this."

Something that felt akin to warmth - a foreign sensation that Hel was feeling more and more lately - stirred somewhere deep within her. The corners of her lips quirked upwards ever so slightly before placing a cool kiss to your forehead. "And I as well."

[josephkitchen0]

Dandelion Uses from Root to Fluff

By Rebekah White from New Life on a Homestead – Dandelions are considered a weed by most gardeners but the list of dandelion uses runs long. We spend a lot of time and effort weeding, plucking, and otherwise controlling or modifying our gardens and trying to get “invading” species like dandelions out so that our “edible” plants can grow. However, did you know that dandelions are not only a beneficial part of your lawn but are also edible?

Not only are dandelions edible, they are nutritious and delicious. They are tasty both raw and cooked, and while they have a bad reputation as just an “everyday weed,” they should be considered an integral part of your diet. There are several ways to cook and prepare dandelions. Dandelion greens are somewhat bitter and nutty in taste, similar to an endive or radicchio. Greens taste especially delicious with savory foods such as bacon, goat cheese, or nuts. Every part of the dandelion can be eaten, and each piece has a distinctive culinary use.

Health Benefits

Edible wild greens like dandelions not only taste good but are good for you. Dandelions have been used in medicine for thousands of years. They are high in antioxidants and have been used to treat skin infections and inflammation.

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If that’s not enough, dandelions contain more calcium than a glass of milk and more iron than spinach. Their leaves contain more vitamin A than carrots! They also contain potassium, folic acid, and magnesium. They are low in calories and high in calcium as well as vitamins A and C. Unlike many vegetables that lose nutritional value when heated, dandelions remain nutritious whether cooked or eaten raw.

Dandelion leaves are powerful diuretics and can be used for the treatment of acne and eczema. They can help detoxify the liver, gallbladder, and kidneys. Other dandelion uses are to treat urinary infections, gout, diabetes, and even prostate enlargement. Dandelion allergies are highly uncommon, making them a great option for individuals who suffer from food allergies. Other dandelion uses are to treat water retention, digestive issues, and even hepatitis. There is some evidence to suggest that dandelions might even be useful in the treatment of cancer symptoms!

They contain only one potential side effect and one that is rare to boot. Dandelions are also extremely high in vitamin K. While this is a crucial vitamin for most, doctors recommend that you avoid dandelion greens if you are taking blood-thinning medications. Dandelions can make your blood clot faster if eaten in excess.

Leaves and Greens

Dandelion leaves can be harvested at any point throughout the season. They can be eaten at any size, and are delicious when added to a green salad. They tend to be more bitter and flavorful when eaten raw. Their crunch works wonders as a side or main dish, or when accompanying other ingredients in a medley of flavors.

They can be steamed or added to a stir-fry or soup, which reduces the bitterness and crunch. Greens can also be sautéed in oil, cooked in casseroles, or used as a sandwich ingredient. If you plan to eat them raw, make sure you taste them first to ensure that they are of maximum freshness and flavor.

Flowers

Dandelion flowers have a surprisingly sweet taste and can be eaten raw or cooked. Breaded and fried, served as dandelion fritters, they make a delightfully sinful (yet still healthy) treat. Many people also use the flowers to make a homemade dandelion wine recipe.

Root

Dandelion root can be dried and roasted for use as a coffee substitute or eaten alongside (or as a substitution for) any common root vegetable, such as carrots, beets, or potatoes.

How to Harvest Greens

Dandelions, compared to other wild greens, are easy to harvest even if you are an amateur gatherer. But you still need to be careful when foraging for edible weeds. Some wild greens or “weeds” have hazardous lookalikes, while dandelions have distinctive features that make them easy to find and harvest. Make sure you select an area that wouldn’t have been touched by any pesticides or herbicides to avoid exposure to any chemicals. Similarly, try not to harvest dandelions growing close to a road, as they can pick up pollution and road salt.

You can also buy dandelion greens at a grocery store or farmer’s market, but there’s no need if you have a natural, organic supply on your own property. Look for dandelion bunches that are stiff with dark-green leaves. They will have fine-toothed combs and springy flowers. On the other hand, avoid those that have yellowed leaves or wilted heads.

The best time to harvest dandelions is in the spring when they are freshest. The longer dandelions grow, the more bitter they get. When plucked young, they tend to taste sweeter. Nevertheless, you can harvest dandelions up until the first frost.

Dandelion bloom with buds among springtime greenery.

Pick the youngest leaves, which are located on the inside of the growth. These will be the freshest and crispiest. The best greens are from dandelions that have not yet produced a flower. The greens last for up to two days in the fridge.

Plants that have just produced crowns are the sweetest types of dandelions. Crowns are dense circles of leaves that appear just before a yellow flower emerges.

Flowers should be harvested as buds, which can be plucked directly from the green stem. Try not to eat the green base of the flower as this is more bitter.

Dandelion root can be harvested all year, but it is best to do this in the spring. Spring dandelion root will host a wide range of vitamins and minerals that were stored throughout the winter months. To harvest, pull the long roots, clean them with cool water, and cut them into pieces.

Did you know you can preserve garden greens and dandelions? They can be dehydrated or frozen if you would like to enjoy them throughout the winter months as well.

Similar Wild Greens

Dandelions aren’t the only weeds you can harvest and savor. Similar edible wild greens include nettles, purslane, sorrel, and lambsquarters. While their culinary uses and nutritional benefits vary, some, like lambsquarters, offer over 100 percent of your daily vitamin C requirement.

Dandelions have more nutrients than spinach and kale — the nutrient powerhouses of most gardens. Unlike most vegetables, every piece is edible, and because you can find them growing wild pretty much everywhere in the country, the price is almost always right.

What other dandelion uses do you suggest? We’d love to hear your ideas!

Rebekah lives on a 22-acre homestead in New York, raising bees, chickens, and lots of veggies. When she’s not practicing or writing about homesteading, Rebekah teaches high-school English.

Dandelion Uses from Root to Fluff was originally posted by All About Chickens

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Dandelion Uses from Root to Fluff

By Rebekah White from New Life on a Homestead – Dandelions are considered a weed by most gardeners but the list of dandelion uses runs long. We spend a lot of time and effort weeding, plucking, and otherwise controlling or modifying our gardens and trying to get “invading” species like dandelions out so that our “edible” plants can grow. However, did you know that dandelions are not only a beneficial part of your lawn but are also edible?

Not only are dandelions edible, they are nutritious and delicious. They are tasty both raw and cooked, and while they have a bad reputation as just an “everyday weed,” they should be considered an integral part of your diet. There are several ways to cook and prepare dandelions. Dandelion greens are somewhat bitter and nutty in taste, similar to an endive or radicchio. Greens taste especially delicious with savory foods such as bacon, goat cheese, or nuts. Every part of the dandelion can be eaten, and each piece has a distinctive culinary use.

Health Benefits

Edible wild greens like dandelions not only taste good but are good for you. Dandelions have been used in medicine for thousands of years. They are high in antioxidants and have been used to treat skin infections and inflammation.

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If that’s not enough, dandelions contain more calcium than a glass of milk and more iron than spinach. Their leaves contain more vitamin A than carrots! They also contain potassium, folic acid, and magnesium. They are low in calories and high in calcium as well as vitamins A and C. Unlike many vegetables that lose nutritional value when heated, dandelions remain nutritious whether cooked or eaten raw.

Dandelion leaves are powerful diuretics and can be used for the treatment of acne and eczema. They can help detoxify the liver, gallbladder, and kidneys. Other dandelion uses are to treat urinary infections, gout, diabetes, and even prostate enlargement. Dandelion allergies are highly uncommon, making them a great option for individuals who suffer from food allergies. Other dandelion uses are to treat water retention, digestive issues, and even hepatitis. There is some evidence to suggest that dandelions might even be useful in the treatment of cancer symptoms!

They contain only one potential side effect and one that is rare to boot. Dandelions are also extremely high in vitamin K. While this is a crucial vitamin for most, doctors recommend that you avoid dandelion greens if you are taking blood-thinning medications. Dandelions can make your blood clot faster if eaten in excess.

Leaves and Greens

Dandelion leaves can be harvested at any point throughout the season. They can be eaten at any size, and are delicious when added to a green salad. They tend to be more bitter and flavorful when eaten raw. Their crunch works wonders as a side or main dish, or when accompanying other ingredients in a medley of flavors.

They can be steamed or added to a stir-fry or soup, which reduces the bitterness and crunch. Greens can also be sautéed in oil, cooked in casseroles, or used as a sandwich ingredient. If you plan to eat them raw, make sure you taste them first to ensure that they are of maximum freshness and flavor.

Flowers

Dandelion flowers have a surprisingly sweet taste and can be eaten raw or cooked. Breaded and fried, served as dandelion fritters, they make a delightfully sinful (yet still healthy) treat. Many people also use the flowers to make a homemade dandelion wine recipe.

Root

Dandelion root can be dried and roasted for use as a coffee substitute or eaten alongside (or as a substitution for) any common root vegetable, such as carrots, beets, or potatoes.

How to Harvest Greens

Dandelions, compared to other wild greens, are easy to harvest even if you are an amateur gatherer. But you still need to be careful when foraging for edible weeds. Some wild greens or “weeds” have hazardous lookalikes, while dandelions have distinctive features that make them easy to find and harvest. Make sure you select an area that wouldn’t have been touched by any pesticides or herbicides to avoid exposure to any chemicals. Similarly, try not to harvest dandelions growing close to a road, as they can pick up pollution and road salt.

You can also buy dandelion greens at a grocery store or farmer’s market, but there’s no need if you have a natural, organic supply on your own property. Look for dandelion bunches that are stiff with dark-green leaves. They will have fine-toothed combs and springy flowers. On the other hand, avoid those that have yellowed leaves or wilted heads.

The best time to harvest dandelions is in the spring when they are freshest. The longer dandelions grow, the more bitter they get. When plucked young, they tend to taste sweeter. Nevertheless, you can harvest dandelions up until the first frost.

Dandelion bloom with buds among springtime greenery.

Pick the youngest leaves, which are located on the inside of the growth. These will be the freshest and crispiest. The best greens are from dandelions that have not yet produced a flower. The greens last for up to two days in the fridge.

Plants that have just produced crowns are the sweetest types of dandelions. Crowns are dense circles of leaves that appear just before a yellow flower emerges.

Flowers should be harvested as buds, which can be plucked directly from the green stem. Try not to eat the green base of the flower as this is more bitter.

Dandelion root can be harvested all year, but it is best to do this in the spring. Spring dandelion root will host a wide range of vitamins and minerals that were stored throughout the winter months. To harvest, pull the long roots, clean them with cool water, and cut them into pieces.

Did you know you can preserve garden greens and dandelions? They can be dehydrated or frozen if you would like to enjoy them throughout the winter months as well.

Similar Wild Greens

Dandelions aren’t the only weeds you can harvest and savor. Similar edible wild greens include nettles, purslane, sorrel, and lambsquarters. While their culinary uses and nutritional benefits vary, some, like lambsquarters, offer over 100 percent of your daily vitamin C requirement.

Dandelions have more nutrients than spinach and kale — the nutrient powerhouses of most gardens. Unlike most vegetables, every piece is edible, and because you can find them growing wild pretty much everywhere in the country, the price is almost always right.

What other dandelion uses do you suggest? We’d love to hear your ideas!

Rebekah lives on a 22-acre homestead in New York, raising bees, chickens, and lots of veggies. When she’s not practicing or writing about homesteading, Rebekah teaches high-school English.

Dandelion Uses from Root to Fluff was originally posted by All About Chickens