Leaves of Grass

The sun is out today, but not too long ago it was rainy, blustery, and gloomy. And as much as I tried to rise above the weather, it affected me. I got all gloomy and doomy, too.

Like the sky, my thoughts darkened. Like the wind, my mood was gusty, resulting in a type of spiritual whiplash. I resorted to sappy TV, World War II novels of heroism, and cleaning the coat closet. Anything to get out of the doldrums and put wind in my sails. Nothing, however, worked.

And that’s because the sure-fire elixir for getting me out of a funk, is a strong dose of sunshine. But when the days are dark, it’s hard to believe that the sun will ever shine again.

But it does, like it did today after a healthy rain. There were no lingering rainbows, but there was a lot of tall grass. My homeowner eyes examined the shaggy, green vastness, irritated by the work it would take to trim. Rankled over the dandelions that had popped up.

What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t the sun working its restorative magic?

I caved in and did what any grown-up would not do. I laid down, right in the middle of that unruly mop of grass and a funny thing happened…

…I began to breathe.

I smelled the breeze. I smelled earth. I smelled the green and was transported to a childhood summer. Grass cut by Grandpa with a push mower—no gas, no electric, just manpower. That cleanest of smells. Stretching out, fingertips to toes, and rolling down the hill. Giggling all the way and bumping to a stop. Bare knees and elbows stained green—what a luxury.

Magically, the unruly lawn that surrounded me, became a playground, those rogue dandelions golden survivors. My senses took in the freshness of a new day, a do-over. I even felt like laughing.

I looked up.

And guess what?

Nary a cloud in the sky, the sun was out.

I hope it stays.

“Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry. Sunshine on the water looks so lovely. Sunshine almost always makes me high.” John Denver 12/31/1943-10/12/1997)