Love that Green Grass

Grass.

There is delight with the lush emerald as the shiny blades blow in the wind. Great pleasure is taken with the newly mowed sweetness and the earthy freshness after a light rain. Settling into a favorite yard chair, toes tuck into soft, clusters of grass. Eye lids close as a deep breath is savored ... and open wide in wonder to the richly forested dance of leaf and sun on the verdant carpet.

Why the honeymoon with grass?

It all began when my family decided to move. Hiring contractors the forested land was cleared and a deep crater dug that would become my home. The rains came and the land surrounding the crater became thick furrows of sticky, wet mud. As the land firmed, the foundation was poured. It was exciting to witness this cement formation as well as the heaving and hammering of boards of our new house. Yet I wondered if my muddy boots would be forever laced. But middle school mentality was refocused when a pronged rake was handed to me as well as a bag of grass seed. At this point came the show and tell, as Dad furrowed the ground and generously sprinkled seed. Covering the seed with dense soil, he stomped the area with his heel. Pointing to the hose, he gently watered to establish the seed and not wash it away. Grinning, he urged me forward and placed the hose in my hands.

I got the picture. Both the front yard and the back covered a lot of territory, but I thought, no big deal. After all it was early spring, I had after school and weekends and the summer to do this. How hard could it be? I planted. Birds ate the seed. I planted some more. The seed floated away in heavy downpours. From seed starting to root, the fiery sun greedily yanked away every drop of moisture. What came up was sparse and trampled by neighborhood kids taking the shortcut home. Give up? That was a serious consideration. But I was learning the hard lessons of a want-to-be amateur farmer. The message was plain on every seed packet. To get a good yield weather conditions had to be right. This was a group effort, of earth, sun, clouds, birds, and me. An inward battle and an outward one.

I grabbed my work gloves and tried again. I even sang to the seeds as I watered and fertilized them.

Early one morning, I stood from the top of the outdoor steps. Something was different. There was dew that covered a light shade of green on the ground. What? In moments I realized I knew what I was looking at … the entire lawn was awash in in new seedlings all breaking ground.

Yes, that summer we had grass. And with good maintenance— yanking out weed after weed— it got better and better. Reading books sitting in a weathered apple tree, I saw stems stretch. I planted myself in its thick, soft caress and drew pictures. I watched falling leaves create a kind of tapestry on the thick carpet. But then frosty temperatures faded the grass to shades of grey and brown.

All was quiet. The yard lay asleep tucked into a layer of silvery white. Anticipating.

Waiting for the first blades to lift and yawn.

***

I was about twelve then.

I am about seventy now.

But the grass still is. It continues to speak it message. Of having its place, its natural life, it yearning to cover, establish and settle the earth.

And to this very day, continues to make me smile.

… and that’s how I live it.

The Japanese shinrin-yoku or “forest bathing” is a practice where nature is enjoyed in a mindful and relaxed way. Great for the body and the mind! Enjoy.