Grass: A Creative Prompt
Zebra, purple fountain, feather reed, tufted hair, purple love, long-beaked sedge, sea oats, flame, fire dragon . . .
Amber waves
Grass covers us: thatch roofs. Grass covers us: linen clothing. And, of course, we eat it. Those of us who are not vegetarians eat animals who eat grass.
Over millennia, human hands, human minds have changed nature, domesticated grass, sown and harvested and kneaded grasses and grains into our diets, our culture.
In Europe and the Mideast, the grass we eat is wheat, along with oats and barley. Wheat into flour, flour into bread.
In Asia, the grass is rice.
In much of Africa, sorghum and millet.
In suburban America, the grass is lawn.
In desert lands, the grass is xeriscape.
Eating grass
Grass tastes, well, grassy. Unless it is rice or millet, or transformed into bread or beer.
Grasses we don’t eat, ornamental grasses, entrance us with exotic names: zebra, purple fountain, feather reed, tufted hair, purple love, long-beaked sedge, sea oats, flame, fire dragon.
Your own grass
What has grass meant for you? A golf green. A prairie. A riding mower.
Remember how you lay in the grass as a child, the blades tickling your face. Watching the bugs crawl up and over. Up and over.
On vast prairies, buffalo grazing, cattle grazing. When we eat meat, we are eating grass.
Expanse
Fields of grass, mingled with clover
Combed by the wind, obedient to rain.
Roots matted, impenetrable, always resistant.
Except to the crabgrass and dandelions.
Golf course greens, wide lawns of manors.
Grass cropped by the sheep at a house in Vermont.
Backlit near ditches, golden in sunlight,
Straight, true, invincible. Food for large beasts.
My mother had no use for ornamental grass. To her, tall grasses were all weeds. I wish I could have guided her to a better understanding, to really see the grass. Backlit by the sun, shimmering in the breeze. Wanted and cherished.
Click here to read Urban Decay, the previous creative prompt.
Read more from Fran at Becoming….
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Grass forms the basis for suburbanites relationship with Nature.
Very precious and expansive. I am so lucky to have watched the profusion of gardens centered on grasses and pollinators. Even in Manhattan, in front plots and backyard spaces. Particularly in these times, we have had one of the most glorious green springs. Treetops so wide they join together the skies above pavements. We had a elder visitor from Greece who marveled at what she felt was the greenest urban habitat she had ever experienced. And she was a world traveler. Not an advertisement. We are simply blessed to have such a dedicated team of city planners with a branch guiding the parks and waterways, sidewalks, and all the different boroughs and neighborhoods. And grasses springing up everywhere, even in the flowerbeds based along sidestreets and the big glorious avenues. Everyone pitches in. Your examples mean so much to us. What it is all about quite honestly. The pollinators. Thank you, Fran.