It has grown.
It has definitely grown since the last time I looked at it; and that was yesterday. To be truthful, I was mainly looking at our garden tree, but the grass would have formed a perspective. Still, I never noticed how much it had grown.
Perhaps, it simply had a growth-spurt over night. Perhaps, there was a sunspot that quietly exploded from that distant star, lit up the night sky, passed on life-affirming qualities, and adopted some self-help development in personal growth.
It could just be!
Anyway, the grass has grown. This may just help me in my long-term plan to become a grass-care specialist to the stars.
I have been planning it for a while now. I once ran a gardening company that saw me through hard financial times. I called it a landscaping company, others strangely called it a market gardening company. My last name is Evans so I decided that Evans on Earth would be a perfect name. Indeed, Evans on Earth became quite a success, in a small venture type of way. At a time of mass-unemployment, I was able to see myself through teacher-training and then into a professional role as a Further Education Lecturer before eventually transferring to the secondary sector. It was Evans on Earth that did that.
It’s strange how grass grows, even in places where it shouldn’t be. I have seen it on roofs, in guttering, the tops of walls, on driveways, or tucked into the tiny folds of tree-bark where the smallest amount of soil has become ensconced. Grass likes nothing better than taking advantage of places in which it can develop itself.
I’m thinking about those sand-dunes that are so precariously positioned before the tides. On top of these forever moving feasts is grass, grass that grows regardless of the conditions or threats posed against it.
The only time when I have seen the defeat of grass is not when the violent forces of nature are arrayed before it, but when the steady, wearing tread of man has decided to take a short-cut through it. Grass, then, is beaten down and trampled into a muddy oblivion, never to return. It’s man that does this. Man with his relentless nature forever moving forward and never stopping to trace the path from whence he came (I feel a touch of the wintry Robert Frosts again).
The irony is that retreading the same path over and over again gets you nowhere new. The real grass may have been defeated but its metaphorical cousin grows on. It grows on and under your feet. And the act of treading and retreading merely ploughs the ground for fresh growth; but it’s not yours.
I have been on the same track for too long. Backwards and forwards, left and right, corner to corner; I have covered every blade that I could possibly cover and still it has grown back. My lawn, if I may be so bold, has not been conquered. My lawn grows alone at night. My lawn needs no solar flares to keep its spirits up. My lawn is an ever growing entity that exists in order to give me something to do.
And now that I have realised this, I will treat it with the resect it deserves and then, maybe, we can both grow together.