Living in the country, we have our fair share of grass growing; oat grass, rye grass just to name a few. When I first married Dominic and moved to the farm, living in a newly built house, there wasn't a whole lot of landscaping going on in the yard. We had a few rose bushes, a few trees and that was about it. Now, eight years later, there's slightly more landscaping {we take things slow} but one of the things that's remained the same is the oat grass growing on the far side of the driveway.
At first I wanted it gone, mowed down. But you know what? It has grown on me. I like it. It sways in the wind almost like it's waving with its delicate rustle that can be heard if our windows are open.
Last night, on a rare, quiet moment, our windows were open, the kids were no where to be heard and the rustling I did hear brought me back to some fond childhood memories.
It's funny how a sound, a scent or a scene can sometimes transport you 30 years into the past.
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