Middle-Aged Grass Man

While our kids were in the acutely young stage, we let the grass in our front and back yard disappear into dirt patches and jungle-like weeds. Though environmentally unsustainable and a middle-aged man obsession, I've developed an interest in grass. I scheduled aeration and fertilization in the spring and again a few weeks ago and have experimented with different types of Kentucky Bluegrass to overseed immediately following these treatments. During my last planting, I purchased specialty, local seed that--according to the grass man at McGuckin's--far outperforms nationally packaged grass seed because it's grown and harvested in local climates.

This fall, my lawn and I got extremely lucky. I overseeded our lawn one day after the aeration and fertilization and hours before an enormous weather system sprinkled moisture for 24 hours. The grass seed sank deeply into the soil, feeding on the nutrients introduced to our hard, clay-packed dirt. We have watered the grasslings fastidiously (as directed by the grass guy) and from the bare spots small, little signs of life have sprung everywhere. There is life everywhere. When I pull into the driveway between errands or take the dog on a walk, sometimes I just stop, bend over, and stare at the signs of life. I am in awe that so many have arrived. And I am fortified by their courage and multitudinousness; new life absolutely erupts in the right conditions, springing from previously arid and impossible earth.

Growing things requires timing and patience. And to foster the growing things which already exist and to create new ones, sometimes you must wait an entire season for the timing to be just right. There is a natural rhythm beneath our feet and if, in our human hubris, we don't abide by that rhythm, our best laid plans will not come to fruition.

So much has been so out of our control for so long. Life often feels frenetic and chaotic; Covid still kills so many, the conflict between Russia and Ukraine still looms large, and the price of living has increased at a pace which most incomes have not matched. I am still often anxious. Sometimes I don't sleep at night. I worry so much for my children.

So if you should drive by and I am bent over staring at the smallest hint of new life, a thing which first touched my hand and then--with the aid of mother nature and an enormous bit of luck--came into existence, pardon my odd exuberance and the outward appearance of psychopathy. In a world which still rumbles with the uncertainty of the last few years, the earth still sings and the seasons still change and humans can sometimes (with a bit of planning, patience, and eternal hope) create something beautiful.