In the long winter evenings he talked to Ma about the Western country. In the West the land was level, and there were no trees. The grass grew thick and high.
The legendary tumbleweed is really a nurse crop that protects the growth of prairie grasses under its shade, and then it sacrifices itself and blows away.
There are no days in the whole round year more delicious than those which often come to us in the latter half of April... The sun trembles in his own soft rays... The grass in the meadow seems all to have grown green since yesterday.
The first in time and the first in importance of the influences upon the mind is that of nature. Every day, the sun; and after sunset, night and her stars. Ever the winds blow; ever the grass grows.
We move the cows every day to a new spot which allows the grass time to recuperate and go through its what I call 'the teenage growth spurt.'
Trying to observe the slow shift from self-centeredness to empathy is like trying to watch grass grow.
It's even occurred to me, as a teeny little subversive whisper of a thought, that if we stop mowing the lawn right now, it will probably be a long, long time before the yard gets overrun by lions and snakes.
The virtue of making two blades of grass grow where only one grew before does not begin to be superhuman.
In countries or places where an appropriate grass surface is not an option, then turf is indeed a great alternative. But that is only when grass does not or cannot grow.
