Magical Mowing

I have mowed my grass before the neighbors, a stupendous accomplishment for two reasons:

(1) My neighbors work in their lawns tirelessly. They roto-till, fertilize, mulch, and edge more frequently than the groundskeepers at Disney World. Periodically, I try to emulate them. More often than not, though, I try to distract them by walking over and talking about yard work (or gardening) I'll probably never get around to. The fact that they haven't yet mowed their lawns concerns me because it suggests (a) I shouldn't have cut mine yet for some inscrutable reason, or (b) the earth is passing through the tail of a comet and turning everything topsy-turvy.

(2) But on a deeper level, I am amazed there is grass to mow. After a brutal and bitter winter, with howling winds, snow, ice, and avalanches -- the latter not in Illinois -- the grass is still alive. (The trees are, too. Remarkable.) Scientists, no doubt, have an explanation for this, but I will not be distracted by empirical data. It is part of the good magic God worked into the world when He made it.

By mid-summer, I will be tired of the magic and ready for the grass to stop growing. Until then, I will do my best to foster the awe growing grass deserves. (I will also continue to stress about the clover and broadleaf weeds that survived the bitter winter. They are part of the dark magic in the world.)