Let Your Grass Flow

People who follow my writing (OK, person) know I hate grass. I lie awake at night thinking of ways to get rid of it. After multiple attempts to make it look nicer, I've decided that grass is the most difficult and expensive of all perennials to establish and maintain. Not too mention extremely labor intensive.  Last fall I found the remains of a bag of grass seed in my tool shed house of horrors. (Warning: don't open the door. I heard a lot of crashing last time I closed the door.  Hey, did I tell you about the time a hatchet fell from its hook and the handle hit me in the face?)

Back to grass. So I threw all of this grass seed down in the small area of grass I have left in my backyard. I have mulched over and planted over all of the other former grass areas, but I decided to leave this small grass area as seating for humans and pooping space for the dog. Little did I know that the dog will poop anywhere. On top of hellebores, on top of pavers, on top of old smokey, all covered in snow.

Back to grass. Lo and behold, this magic grass seed really took off, and I didn't bother to mow it during my last fall mowing of the wretched front yard grass.  Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I was getting the lawn mower out of the shed-of-death and a hatchet hit me in the face? Now this grass is fabulous. Lush and bright green and wild looking. I really like it this way. I may leave it. It makes me feel like a free spirit. Like a hippie.  I hope you'll like it too. 

 

Bellamy Brothers, 1975, Let your love flow, like a mountain stream