That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden dandelions;
William Wordsworth (near enough)
Photo taken today in the hills above Milldale. Even though dandelions are a constant menace in the garden, I find myself admiring the remarkable toughness of the little blighters. When they flower en masse like this they can look quite spectacular too.
Knowing what they are takes some of the edge off it, but not entirely. This was just a small section of a large field carpeted with them from dry stone wall to dry stone wall.