Grass is the forgiveness of nature-
her constant benediction.
Forests decay, harvests perish, flowers vanish,
but grass is immortal.
Maiden grass, purple fountain grass, blood grass, little bluestem, pink muhly–what’s not to love about such names. Not only are they alluring monikers for gardeners, but their visual charms provide great cover for wildlife and their seeds are good food sources for birds. Few pests bother them, and given a bit of wind their airy, flower panicles, feathery plumes, or striking seed heads resemble fairy wands as they capture and play with available light. What I like best about them is that in their swishing and swaying the echoes of the eternal and murmurs of sacred benedictions can be heard. A garden and all its plantings, be they grasses or trees or shrubs or ferns or herbs or mosses, always speak of earth’s primeval and venerable origins as well as man’s connection to the Holy Voice that spoke everything into being. But it is in the movement of the grasses that I most feel the in and out movement of God’s ruach, His life-giving breath. Chardin whom I quoted above contended that the more he devoted himself in some way to the interests of the earth the more he belonged to God. It is the same for me because being close to and working the earth is like being attached to an umbilical cord that keeps me forever connected to and sustained by Him, the loving Source of all life.
Sing to the LORD with thanksgiving; make music to our God on the harp. He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills. ~Psalm 147:7-8 ✝