It used to be that I would swish with a length of bamboo the seedheads of the blondies on my grass once they had gone to fluff and before they could fling themselves onto neighbour’s non-welcoming lawn; those marvels of parachutes would then land merrily near the parent and give me another golden crop. An old cornhusk broom was acquired recently (estate sale, yes) and while contentedly listening to the music a real broom makes when in use my eye swept across the dandelions waiting to roar and I wondered, "what if…?" Now I sweep silver globes into explosions.