Grass under my feet

I've just treated myself to a lovely little book which illustrates an example of native flora or fauna each day.  Today's was a list of grasses - I've had a grass identification guide on my Amazon wish list for years - perhaps it's time to order it!

in my childhood

the waist high grass on the disused airfield

was for wading through slowly

the seed heads slipping through our fingers

tickling our bare legs, 

sticking in our sandal buckles

until we caught them under our nails

and stripped them from their stems.

it was for squashing down flat into dens

our own special place

where we could hide for hours 

plaiting the tallest stems into ropes for bracelets,  

making catapults, each heavy seed head

thwacking satisfyingly into a friend

it gave us darts to stick in each other's clothes - 

it was the bane of our mothers' lives. 

in adulthood 

the fascination with those different grasses 

the myriad ways they flower,  and seed,

morphed into a need to classify,  to name,

to differentiate, 

their common names a hymn to individuality.

the fescues: tall,  red,  sheep's and viviparous, quaking grass, sweet vernal grass, 

creeping soft grass, crested hair grass, 

bristle bent, brown bent, creeping bent, common bent, 

meadow oat grass, downy oatgrass,

purple moorgrass, perennial rye grass,

Yorkshire fog,

crested dog's tail,  sand cat's tail,

marsh foxtail,  meadow foxtail, cock's foot,

wavy hair grass, smooth finger grass,

upright brome, marram and couch.

such wonderful old time names

for a plant sowing its seeds

throughout our less complicated past.

© Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved