Posted 5-6-19
One of the temporary/seasonal jobs mom did in an earlier life was working in a greenhouse. She loves plants of all kinds, both inside and out. She was a good yard person. Perhaps not a great yard person since she has several passions, but the yard was always nice…nicer than some of her neighbors. Even when I used to butcher it as a kid, trying to hurry the mowing so I could watch more cartoons Saturday morning, mom cobbled together a patch to make it look like at least a shade tree groundskeeper’s cousin lived there.
One of mom’s favorites are ornamental grasses. For the thumb color/botanally-challenged (like me and by dual brown thumbs), ornamental grasses look similar to regular grass, except up to 10 or more feet tall. Not the 10 foot tall I let my yard get with weeds and stray farm animals… think more of a neat, systematic look in a simple row or clump. Some, like the picture below, are painted up pretty by the Lord and others are simple, yet nice green.
Mom’s obsession with ornamental grasses were the butt of a chuckle my bride and I had following the dozens of times that mom offered to bring us a start when we had our house in Stockton. Why was she pushing these grasses so hard on us?
(Entering the inevitable “Hindsight is 20-20” part of the festivities) I am a believer that nothing in life happens for no reason, whether the parties involved know it or not. (Editor’s Note: I am deeply sorry
to all of my past English teachers for the double negative/split infinitives, all of whom weep bitterly when they read what I have done to their beautiful language). I don’t look for deep meaning for everything that happens, mind you. I don’t buy a Powerball ticket when I just miss hitting a deer on the highway nor do I make note of the scads of old wive’s tales/superstitions that fall into my lap daily. I don’t search out Jesus-shaped Corn Flakes nor 5-leaf clovers…but maybe mom’s yard plant fancy should be teaching me otherwise?
Mom is and was into the simple life and ornamental grasses scream simple. They just sit there, demand minimal care, and come back yearly. They don’t bring stuff to my life that horrify me (such as the two most scary things, in my view, in the living creature kingdom: wasps/hornets/stinger-things and dolphins). They provide a small shelter to sit behind and eat a PB&J out of the world’s eye. They require little maintenance to be beautiful and thrive, unlike the things I would buy (and kill) that I didn’t have the time to tend to in my home ownership years.
Could mom have been teaching me that the simple things are best. Look for the Jesus (or something else) in your cereal or other foods and smile if you like. Flowers are fine, but there is also something magical about a huge clump of grass swaying in the wind. Take more walks like mom used to, picking up souvenir rocks in one bag and trash to recycle in the other. Draw doodles if you can’t draw like Van Gogh. Sing in the shower if you can’t sing like David Phelps. Fish with an old worm if you can’t figure out the triple spoon, whirligig with on-board high-definition female fish image projector lure that Bass Pro sells.
Don’t sweat the small stuff, but live a simple life knowing that you are loved and taken care of my a loving God. Oh how I would loved to have learned this Biblical truth in an easier way, but I have a numb skull.
Thank you mom, for modeling the simple life to me for the last 74+ years. Maybe I can still change direction and simplify too. Maybe I will try out some ornamental grasses while I am at it. I am sure my landlord will like them.
#EndALZ
Update: Mom was doing fine Sunday after church. We hung out and made funny sounds and smiled a lot. Not a ton to talk about, but that’s ok. Sometimes simply being there is good enough.