Dandelion Wine

“[T]here were some days compounded completely of odor, nothing but the world blowing in one nostril and out the other. And some days, he went on, were days of hearing every trump and trill of the universe. Some days were good for tasting and some for touching. And some days were good for all the senses at once.”

Douglas’s father perceives and appreciates The Magic of Everyday Things, and he teaches Douglas to sense that same wonder in even the most mundane moments of his own young life. Throughout the summer of 1928, Douglas learns this lesson well and strives to discover new ways to savor each moment or his existence, savoring his best experiences like dandelion wine.

“The world slipped bright over the glassy round of his eyeballs like images sparked in a crystal sphere. Flowers were sun and fiery spots of sky strewn through the woodland. Birds flickered like skipped stones across the vast inverted pond of heaven. His breath raked over his teeth, going in ice, coming out fire. Insects shocked the air with electric clearness. Ten thousand individual hairs grew a millionth of an inch on his head. He heard the twin hearts beating in each ear, the third heart beating in his throat, the two hearts throbbing his wrists, the real heart pounding his chest. The million pores on his body opened. I’m really alive! he thought. I never knew it before, or if I did I don’t remember!”

While out in a field, collecting strawberries with his father and brother, Douglas suddenly feels his senses open up to the world around him, and he experiences a grand epiphany in which ordinary things become intense, dramatic, and meaningful. It’s the first day of summer, and the warm freedom that Douglas always feels with the season somehow releases him to sense the fullness of life.

“The boys bent, smiling. They picked the golden flowers. The flowers that flooded the world, dripped off lawns onto brick streets, tapped softly at crystal cellar windows and agitated themselves so that on all sides lay the dazzle and glitter of molten sun. ‘Every year,’ said Grandfather. ‘They run amuck; 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.’”

Dandelions, which are a nuisance to most homeowners, have a quiet beauty all their own. Pressed into wine, they distill the dreamy heat of summer. Grandpa appreciates the unheralded wonders of ordinary life; he taught this important value to his son, who passes it on to Douglas, and now the boy goes forth loving everyday things and getting more out of a single day than most people might in a month.