August 26, 2014

scrapping the lawn

It would be simpler, surely, to stay in tune with the neighbors, whose yards
rest, placid, at the foot of each house with nary a dip in topography save
a trio of bushes soldiering the front windows. And it's true that what you've got planned
is an upheaval you can't predict, a loose cannon of horticultural proportions, since
you've neither the education nor experience to guide you, exactly. But there are sacrifices
for every choice that goes against the grain. You don't slash and burn without cleaving
from your own comfort. Even now, as the lawn lies partially scraped and scorned, you see
you could turn back, patch the broken pieces, ignore the song of wildness and color
calling you. Maybe the grass doesn't need changing. But you do, and that knowing's clear
enough to wrap your novice hands on awkward tools to find the garden living there.