I really enjoy gardening. I wouldn't say I have a green thumb, but I'm not killing everything I touch either. All of my plants were gifts or purchased at a local nursery. There have, of course, been some casualties due to the kids rough housing. There was an indoor christmas cactus that survived the first crash onto the floor only to succumb to a life-ending game of 'get the kitty'. Out back, we have a rhododendron that was so pretty until Sammy chased a basketball into it. It's still alive but has been crippled, relying on crutches to stand up. And then there are the ornamental grasses that both kids like to eat. They walk over and much away with their back teeth, as if they're goats or something.
I've come to realize I need to buy only the most substantial, hardy plants. No orchids or roses at our house.
So, in my ongoing attempt to maintain the life of my plants, I decided to seed the bare spots in our lawn, (other greenery that battles the wear and tear of Sammy). I've seeded sections of the lawn before, so I know I can do it successfully.
Why then, I wonder, was I so surprised and delighted to see the first sprouts of grass covering the soil this morning? Maybe because I can't believe something that fragile can find life in our rough and tough life. Maybe it's because it is the only thing I've actually grown from a seed.
Despite the reason, I was so proud and happy this morning to find the green stubble appear like a five o'clock shadow. Let's hope it can make it through the chaos! I'm rooting for you baby grass!