by Kate Glasch

Created on: May 14, 2009

When winter begins to roll into spring, I think of only one thing; grass. And if I were to write a tribute to a blade of green grass, I think it would go something like this:

A blade of green grass it stands so tall.

A blade of green grass it looks so small.

The beginning of spring

this little green thing.

Oh, to be a blade of green grass.

Therefore, I will spare you the misery and ixnay on the kindergartener-poet inside of me and instead, rely on the non-rhyming writer that resides within my pen to convey to you my own tribute to a blade of green grass.

I once drove from Lafayette, Indiana to Minneapolis, Minnesota in March. If you are geographically inclined or have a fifth grade education, you should know that southern Hoosiers and southern Minnesotans experience very different weather during the month of March. While driving home from the green-grassed Indiana, I could not tell you the moment when my boyfriend and I exited spring's beginning and entered a land still oppressed under the wrath of a thick blanket of white snow. Without noticing, we had driven from grass that was green, luxurious, and picnic-perfect, to a place where the grass wasn't even visible beneath the foot of snow that had selfishly been keeping it for itself for the past winter.

Grass usually works like that. It is brown and then the next morning you wake up and ta-da, it is green! The moment that you realize that the snow has melted and that the brown hay-looking grass has finally turned into green grass, that moment should be celebrated. It should be celebrated because it is the first sign that warm weather is approaching- which, of course, means all good things. Green grass arrives before the flowers begin to spread their brilliant colors among gardens and often, before the trees have descended into their full amount of shade-giving wonderfulness. When the grass is green it is a perfect recipe for dirty feet. One can slip off their shoes and let each blade of grass tickle the soles of their feet while simultaneously building up a layer of dirt on their skin of which one could only be proud. That should be celebrated.

A blade of grass is wonderful and deserves a tribute of its own not only because it gives me great pleasure, but because you and I are not the only recipients of this marvelousness. Have we forgotten our little friends who receive the benefit

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