The Direction of Intention

Living so close to the lake our soil is sandy so ornamental grasses thrive in our yard. Each year, rounding the corner into fall, the grasses produce gorgeous plumes. The plumes catch the light. Amber and gold, purple and crimson. The plumes catch the wind, waving and dancing. The plumes capture my attention. I am each day mesmerized by the color and sway of the grasses.

Beyond their enthrall, I have another, perhaps more important appreciation for the ornamental grasses. They have become teachers of patience. They are reminders of right process.

Several years ago we transplanted grasses from our front yard to the back. The sandy soil and constant sun made it difficult for flowers and other plants to grow along our eastern fence line so we decided to give the grasses a try. We didn’t have the resources to buy new varieties so we split the grasses in our front yard.

The result was not good. I thought I’d stunted the grasses in the front. The first year after splitting, their usual exuberance was gone. To personify them, they seemed disheartened. The newly planted grasses in the backyard were gasping. The second year was not much better. I thought, rather than watch their slow demise, it would be better to pull them and start anew. I was mortified. I didn’t know what I was doing and it seemed I’d made everything worse.

Kerri told me to wait, to give them one more season.

In the third year, both front and back, the grasses exploded into life. Ebullient. Buoyant. Each day I’d stand in the middle of the yard and mutter, “I can’t believe it.”

Kerri watched my daily mystification and asked, “Aren’t you glad that you didn’t pull them?

Now, many years later, they are huge, thriving. Little volunteers have sprouted and prosper around the pond. In fact, I now work to keep the ornamental-grass-colonies from taking over the yard.

The grasses have fostered an environment of abundance: they have become safe haven for rabbits, DeeNCee Lullabaloo (the frog-in-residence) spends more time in the grass kingdom than in the pond. The chippies have established a protected highway running through and behind the grass-cover.

And I sit and marvel at their luminance and wind-choreography. Each year I await the coming of the plumes. They fill me with life. They remind me to allow for natural growth rather than push for a result. I hope that I’ve learned their humble lesson. No matter; they fill me with awe, the reward of slow walking, the gift of patience.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GRASSES

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Filed under: DR Thursday, Gratitude, Navel Gazing, Seeing | Tagged: abundance, appreciation, artistry, attention, awareness, awe, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, exuberance, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lessons, ornamental grasses, patience, slow walking, story, studio melange, the melange, thrive |