I anticipate it for months as it lies under the snow. Then March arrives and I look dreamily out my kitchen window for a moment, thinking of how the lawn will be this spring. In my mind’s eye I imagine the beautiful green that lies beneath the white. I can feel the damp grass tickle my toes as I walk through it barefoot and somewhere deep inside the store of long forgotten memories, the sweet smell of summer, fresh cut lawn, is retrieved, bringing with it a rush of little pictures like lemonade, gliders and long days of sun.
Every day I pause at the window to check the progress. Every day it gets a little closer. A tiny bare spot here, a pool of melt there, an edge of dirty green along the sidewalk…and then it happens. Overnight the snow is gone.
On the first fine morning I go out, coffee in hand, to revel in the beauty and magnificence that is my lawn, my yard, my sanctuary.
And that is when I fall to earth in mid sip. Why? Because I have not the lawn of dreams. Oh, the yard is capable of growing grass, it just doesn’t. Instead I have mud, punctuated by tufts of something else brown. Grass, I suppose, in a former life. Huge footprints from the dogs have left so many water-filled craters it could be classified as a wetland, if only it were that healthy. Every year I think it will be different. I feed, I seed but it is always the same. A neighbor once called to tell me my ‘yard was a disaster’. Another thought Astroturf was the way to go. It is the scourge of Holub Street. My family sends me little notes, asking if I will be buying a mower this year or leaves messages on my phone to tell me high winds are in the forecast and they are concerned my elderly neighbors will go missing in the impending dust storm. My cousin told me to ‘just give up the dream!’ I could blame it on the dogs, but I have friends who have dogs. Their lawns do not look like mine.
I look into my coffee cup, then survey the wasteland, then back to the coffee. I realize with a sigh that the two are the same color. I shake my head at the sad, sad misery that is my lawn. Poor thing. If it were a dog, it would howl.
But I’m a ‘the glass is half full’ sort of a gal and I spot a blade of green over here, and one way over there. Suddenly, the coffee tastes not too bad. I guess I’ll have to call my cousin to tell her the dream is not dead, at least not this year. After all, some more blades might pop up as spring moves into summer. This COULD be the year of the mower! It could be the year the grass fairy adorns my lawn with healthy little sprigs of life. Anything is possible! I…I could win the lottery!
Hmm, that might happen sooner than my lawn growing grass…