I thought all grass was created equal. Green strands that grow from the ground, collect dew in the morning and gets cut every week. But there’s something different about this gras. It smells and looks and even feels the same as any grass I ave experienced sure, but it isn’t the same.
To passersby when a rain drop falls it’s the end. It merges with a puddle, or slides down the blade of grass on which it falls. There’s no distinguishing this drop of rain from those that came before it, and soon enough another has fallen and the first soon forgotten.
This grass treated the rain differently. With every drop of rain the grass springs to life and bounced it with joy. It begs to be rolled in and its hidden treasures discovered.The wind whispers a soft breeze and each blade dances back in a wave of reply. There are no patches of brown where the grass got tired if being strong. A step doesn’t crush it and the cows don’t phase it. Irish grass grows on.