When there was still a little wild around the edges of fields, nature was full of adventures. Blades of grass taut between your thumbs sounded like an oboe. You could "smoke" dried lily stems. Maple seeds floated down like helicopters.
Milkweed (see pic) was everywhere, a favorite home for the Monarch butterfly. Milkweed was a weed growing in hedgerows and ditches. Now Amishland National Park (Monterey's environs) is intensely farmed to the last inch. When we put in the butterfly garden, milkweed was one of the plants put in.
The "milk" is merely the hairs attached to each seed. When the wind catches them right, they get one little thrill ride to where they will grow next year. You spread by flowing with nature. Change the economics and you change milkweed. Change a US president and you change milkweed. It could go the other way, too.
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