Legend has it that many, many years ago a wicked witch resided in the Land Where the Dandelions Grow. She lived high on a hill in a tiny little house that could barely be seen through the pines and always, always kept one of her evil eyes focused squarely on the residents of the little cottages that lined the lake shore below.
I don't believe she had a wart on her chin or a cauldron filled with fish eyes and toadstools bubbling away in her fire place, but there was a step-son whom it is said she could have treated more kindly. It was also rumored that after the wife of one of the cottage people passed away she would swoop down the hill on her broom late at night to comfort the bereaved widower.
The Witch of the Pines was long gone before I arrived in the Land Where The Dandelions Grow so I can only speak of legend. But I know one thing for certain, some beautiful rhododendrons have grown and thrived in the ashes of her evil ways.
Perhaps her heart had a soft spot after all.