I don't mind that my husband hasn't mowed. I can't blame him, actually. Our front yard is larger than the back, so we typically play with Cub out there, since he isn't walking and isn't really quick enough as a crawler to zip to the street before one of us notices. And I know what my husband is doing with this non-mowing. He's waiting for the first frost to move in and declare for him that See! It didn't matter that the back yard wasn't mowed! It's dead now anyway!
Of course, this means, inevitably, that the first frost will not occur until December and those oblivious pedestrians who frequent the sidewalk next to our fence will soon notice the grass peeking at them over the top of the boards. Until then, though, I am enjoying the little field. These stormy days that are bringing in the fall have also brought the most wonderful breeze and I love watching the very tall grass wave in the wind. It rolls gently. I like it.
The only member who remains a tad confused by our large patch of overgrowth is Bailey, our Boston Terrier. The grass reaches high above her now and she stealthily maneuvers through it, and no doubt she is expecting a large jungle cat to leap from the grassy folds at any moment. We like to keep her guessing.
And so, the fall is here. Or, at least, it is coming. And the seasons that herald change are always my favorite because I am usually ready for a change. This season of life has definitely been unlike any other season in our lives, bringing experiences that have tested the words of faith that we easily speak and, through the fire, realize we actually believe.
I know that the grass will eventually die with that first frost and the next season will be upon us. But, for now, I am resting in this interim, this period of time that is settled between seasons, reflecting on the season past and anticipating the season that lies ahead. And I'm appreciating the overgrown grass that has seen sweltering summer days and has risen beyond it, to become a little field, gently rolling in the breezes of the fall.