Gardens

My affection for lawn stems from childhood, a time when I spent hours playing outdoors with the other neighborhood children. We made tiaras, crowns, and bracelets from the clover and dandelions that grew randomly in the lawn my father tended. Sitting on the grass tying stems into loose knots, linking them one into the other, we were occupied, peaceful, and engaged with our environment. On sultry summer mid-western evenings, we took turns rolling down the long green hillside in front of my house, gaining speed until each of us barreled into the hedge below, laughing uproariously. On those hot humid nights, the cool grass was a comfort to our bare arms and legs.