lawn

I know we are supposed to prize a well-kept lawn. One devoid of crabgrass, daisies, dandelions. One of the perfect height and hue. One that invites barefoot strolling or carefree napping. But I don't.

I love the blades long and unruly. The mounds making manes around stands of daisies and dandies. That's spring. That's nature. That's lush with organic creativity begging for the lens, the pen, the canvas.