we like grass...

Grass is one of those things that you don’t miss until you don’t have any. In fact, you may even be thinking that you would be more than happy to not have your yard full of grass since then you wouldn’t have to mow it anymore. That’s what my husband, the Builder, thought, too.

At our last house, we had a huge yard. We lived on the inside of a crescent, so our lot was pie-shaped. The front was big, but the back yard was massive.

Before my husband and I had our children, I’d daydream about playing in the yard with children. Tumbling around with them; tickling them on the soft meadow. Now, when I see that kind of scene in a movie, I wonder how the mother is going to get the grass stains out.

My neighbour spotted me cutting the front lawn one day a few summers ago, before our big move, and he stopped to ask if I was feeling okay. He must have thought I was delirious. I usually left the lawn for the men of the family, and after that one ambitious time, during a moment of women’s liberation and an hour of fighting the heat, bugs, and grass-itch, I decided I didn’t want to be liberated.

The Builder dreams of owning a riding mower and the yard to go with it. Our yard was not large enough for one of those, but it was too big for a manual push mower. He settled on a thrifty model from Canadian Tire, thinking he’d wear it out quickly, then upgrade to something more industrial. Since he didn’t plan to own it for long, he didn’t take much care of the Beast. He left it outside in all weather next to the garden shed, rarely paid it any attention, yet it started every spring and did a good days work when asked. That mower is over twenty years old now. Since we moved into our new place and went without a lawn our first summer, the Builder was doubtful the old Beast would start again. It had been carelessly shoved under the deck and left in nasty weather—again.

Being our second summer in our new place with no grass, we were extremely anxious for the green stuff. My husband was longing to cut grass and I was tired of the dog laying in the bare garden and dirt being tracked into the house.

To prepare, the Builder carted wheelbarrow fulls of loam all over the yard, front and back. He raked and smoothed.

We both waited for sod like we were expecting a baby. We fretted and checked the due date repeatedly. When the big day arrived, we were taken a little by surprise and we were overjoyed. Finally! Grass again!

Our pooch rolled around on the freshly laid velvety carpet. She was in raptures over our return to grass ownership.

After watering the luscious rug endlessly, and the sun doing its job, the grass grew. My husband dragged the old Beast out from under the deck, and he pulled the starter cord. True to form, it started. He won’t be getting a new mower any time soon, but he seems to be enjoying cutting the grass all the same.

Our time shorn of something as common as grass made us all the more appreciative.