A month ago, our grass was dead. Well, except for the dandelions and weeds. Brown, ugly, crunchy. Its amazing to me how fast it has bounced back and with hardly any rain. Our lawn is totally green again and growing, in need of a mow.

I wish we humans were a little more like grass. There are seasons of our lives where we are dry, thirsty, brown, crunchy. Yet, when the rain comes, the cool wind starts blowing, we just hang on to our dryness, holding on to the pain of that season.

Life would be stifling if it was always summertime.


One thought on “Grass

  1. It seems like all the great writers and inventors come from places that have always-changing weather. Think of all those bushy-bearded Russians; Tolstoy, Karamazov, Solzhenitsyn and all those dead British guys…and lets not forget all of our New Englanders and the Pacific Northwesterners…like that fellow from Tacoma who wrote the Dune chronicles.

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