Beautiful Heartland Corn Crop, Waverly, KS
New Driveway Grass Crop, Jamestown, NC
I recently had to remove a mature Maple tree close to my driveway along
with the roots that had begun to encroach under the pavement. The tree’s shade was welcome but it was also destroying
the surrounding grass. After the work
was finished, I was left with a micro plot of land which begged for an over seeding
of an appropriate grass blend. I received
some good advice years ago that once you plant seeds they must be nurtured and kept moist
until the grass has established a good root system or you might as well scatter
the seed into the street. So, I
faithfully watered the seed bed for days as the fresh shoots appeared and began
to thrive in the newfound sunshine.
I have always enjoyed yard work and planting since I’ve reasoned
that I still have a bit of inherited dirt coursing through my bloodstream. All of my grandparents were raised on rural
Kansas farms and managed farms to sustain their families which included my
father and mother. My good fortune along
with my other cousins was the inherited DNA those good folks bequeathed to all
of us, as we were the first to be born and raised in the postwar economies of
our urban lives.
I left my small grassy field to attend a family gathering last
week with the expectation that nature would at least provide some rain while I
was absent, especially with hurricane Dorian tracking up the east coast. But good news and bad news awaited my
return. Dorian just skirted the
coastlines and its rain bands never penetrated deep into the mainland. The plot of land I had been nurturing was
looking parched and forlorn when I arrived home. There was even a small patch that had died
due to a lack of rain. Fortunately, I
have the benefit of instant running water at my disposal and the grass is now
recovering.
The trip back to my birthplace through the Heartland of America
triggered lots of memories. I remembered
my farming relatives talking about how every spring planting was a true act of
faith. The ground is prepared and seed
is sown. And then it becomes a time for
waiting and worrying if the rains will come on time in just the right amounts,
which seldom occurs. But somehow my
grandparents survived and the welcoming descendants that gathered on a warm
summer day close to harvest time were a wonderful testament to their faith in God
and the future. I have to believe that
they endured innumerable dry days and dark nights of the soul where that belief
enabled them to persevere. It wasn’t the
thought of an easy life for themselves but the deeply rooted faith in a better
life for their grandchildren that must have sustained them.
And all us gave thanks before breaking bread together that they
did just that and we were living the American dream because of their faith in
us to thrive where we were planted.
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