Dandy Dandelions: Thoughts on Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine and Other Dandelion Rumination

Welcome to Sandy Suitcase's first Classics Book club blog, starring Dandelion Wine (1957) by Ray Bradbury.

I chose Dandelion Wine partly from mid-winter nostalgia for my own summers, plus I love early 20th century American history, but that's for another time. Dandelion Wine is about much more than dandelions, but in keeping with the dandelion theme, let me share this passage, "They run around. I let them. Pride of lions in the yard. Stare, and they burn a hole in your retina. A common flower, a weed that no one sees, yes. But for us, a noble thing, the dandelion."

Grandpa rants against his neighbor Bill's unsuccessful attempt to plant no-mow grass, declaring the sound of the mower as the harbinger of summer, and how would dandelions for wine grow in that new grass? Grandpa sounds like an early champion of an ecologically diverse yard, which is what I'd love to see more of, and indeed, the dandelion has multiple uses. Let's hear more...

From my adjunct reading, The Teeth of the Lion by Anita Sanchez, I learned about the history and botany of dandelions, including; medicinal uses such as the prevention of scurvy; eating the tender leaves as salad greens; brewing the roasted roots for a nutty, slightly bitter tea. And one fact I never thought about, although it makes sense, is that each little yellow petal is its own flower, and becomes an individual seed with a little puff, and so we drift back to Dandelion Wine...

...although weather prevented the book club from meeting, I did receive feedback. One reader enjoyed reviving her own memories and felt a little rewired after reading the book. A few people felt the language too flowery, too many details. For me, I admired Bradbury's creative writing, and I wonder if he enjoyed writing something not science fiction, for which he is best known. For instance, I liked his reference, "...where clouds filled the sky with immense shapes of old gods and warriors." I just picture huge, powerful clouds thrusting up from behind the hills.

One reader admired how Douglas learned a new lesson in each chapter of the summer when he really realized that he was alive. Poignant, considering Death and Anxiety were no strangers to the summer of '28. Saying goodbye to old technologies for the uncertainties of the new also pervaded many chapters, and I wonder if Bradbury purposely chose 1928 since the Great Crash followed in 1929?

Perhaps a takeaway from Dandelion Wine is that regardless of what our futures hold, we always have memories, to relish like dandelion wine, to remember and on which to reflect–the good and the bad, the joys they brought, or obstacles overcome and what we learned. Now, I can't partake of dandelion wine, but every time I see a dent de lion, I can enjoy its sunny countenance and be grateful I live in the presence of such a useful, versatile, tenacious blossom.

Give everything a second look!

See you next time with Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer, March 22, 2026

Kari

From The Teeth of the Lion, illustration of how one little petal is its own flower!