Relative Something

The new green growth of spring is ramping up to top speed around here. The thing about mowing the grass is that the saturated ground is not solid enough to support the riding mower in most places. I almost buried the back wheels by pushing my luck in the ditch beside the driveway that I knew would be a risk.

Every time I make this mistake, I ask myself why I can’t keep from testing the inevitable. Just don’t. But then I do.

It’s such an affront to my sensibilities when certain areas of regular mowing are neglected and stand tall, looking hideous, while the surrounding grass has been freshly trimmed. You’d think it would be easy for me not to care, but my true lawn vanity seeps out in the end.

One place where the super-wet ground is making spring growth very happy is the willow tree in the small paddock that is supposed to be dead.

I’ve never before seen such a dead tree look so happy to be alive. Doesn’t make any sense to me. The horses continue to gnaw on the wood as if they are intent on making it disappear. It can’t continue like this indefinitely, but I am becoming fascinated by how big the new growth on top will get before the end finally arrives.

Moving indoors with the subject of new growth, our repotting of the ZZ plant got me thinking about our Bird of Paradise, so I sought out a picture of what it looked like when it first arrived from Elysa and Ande.

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Look how many new leaves have sprouted on that in the 20 months it’s been here. It’s reaching for the sunlight, but we are hesitant to turn it because the tallest leaves are being supported by the cabinet. The main trunk leans enough that we fear it will topple over without support.

This afternoon, I hope to mow the grass along the driveway and the road. Tomorrow, I will mow the labyrinth. Even with so many trees, bushes, and ground cover growing rapidly, there are plenty of things that barely have buds yet. It leaves so much of the splendor of our spaces far short of its ultimate lush glory.

It has me thinking we should create an event of similar attraction all our own, later in the growing season. A Labyrinth of Love walk, maybe. All we would need to do is find a weekend in the summer when we aren’t away at the lake. Is that a thing?

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