A Life Lesson from Pampas Grass?

The other day I was at one of our local home improvement stores and found myself in the garden section. Me and my landscaping significant other were looking at an assortment of annuals and perennials as part of an ongoing and never ending struggle focused on trying to perfect the best darrn dirt in the county.

You see, we were there contemplating what next plant to buy to accentuate the dirt in our yard.

As I watched the “artist in residence,” who possess this innate ability to look at something and see its intrinsic beauty, I was mesmerized by her uncanny knack to see an individual plant and just know how it would translate and blend into the tapestry called our home. Me, on the other hand would call out in sheer and utter excitement as she lifted every plant, flower, clump of grass—“What a great petunia!”

As she looked at the palate before her, we ended up in front of a clump of grass. The artist called out in absolute delight, “Oh my, wouldn’t this look good in the mound of dirt at the edge of the road? It would greet people as they drove or walked by saying--Hey, look at me. I am part of the world around you and I just wanted to say hi and welcome you to our world too.”

Me, with a predisposed pension for sarcasm and a warped sense of humor (usually with an intent behind it) said to the artist as she assembled the tools of her trade, “Why do they call it pompous grass?”

Ok, so the look on the artist face was not reinforcing of my calling every weed I see a petunia or in this case mischaracterizing, stereotyping or profiling something as “pompous.” It was one of those looks that was not scolding in nature, rather it was more akin to someone who has just seen an alien. You know those looks that impart a subtle but clear and unambiguous statement “What planet did you really come from?”

So as I stood there contemplating petunias, dirt and grass I actually thought about the end result of this foray and how her artistic talent would translate yet again into something beautiful becoming part of our yard. Yet I also stood there and thought about the grass in front of me and the subtlety of my sarcastic comment.

You see, as I understand it, pampas grass is what is referred to as an “ornamental.” Now I do not have a green thumb, but I can til up some awesome dirt and create a plume of billowing dust when I mow over it. But as I stood there, this time was different. I really started to think about placing this ornamental in our yard. Where would we actually place this stand of grass? What would be required of us as we tilled the ground and welcomed our new found friend as a cohabitant from one spot on this planet to an eventual spot in our yard. How would we have to cultivate and nurture it to ensure that it became a permanent fixture of our collective being?

On the ride home, after she got past looking at me like an alien, I shared my thoughts with the artist. I explained to her the subtlety behind my question. I told her, that despite my sarcasm I actually had an intellectual contemplation running in the back of my mind about my question “Why do they call it pompous grass?”

Despite shaking her head in utter disbelief that someone could expend brain matter on a deep reflection about grass (she actually knows I work with researchers who do); all I can say is that she indulged me in my off centered philosophical contemplation. Like the researchers I support, she knows that I am fundamentally concerned about our planet and she listened to me as I explained my thought process. I told her that I truly admired her ability to transform our dirt into something truly beautiful and inviting. I told her that the tapestry of our yard filled with daffodils, iris, hostas, shrubberies (yes just like Monty Python we apparently need shrubberies), plants for the sun, plants for the shade was wonderful and that I truly thought that what she was making was a beautiful site indeed. Although sincere, I halfheartedly continued my temporary foray into actually trying to understand the components and science behind landscaping and the world of green thumb-isms by saying a couple more strategically placed comments about our yard. She had this sudden warmth that resonated as I discussed her gardening and landscaping expertise and skills. That warm glow was short lived however, as I got a hold of myself and tried to get back to the conversation at hand. In doing so I lost another bonding moment and irritated her yet again, by saying “OK, enough about your petunias, I want to talk about pompous grass.”

As she rolled her eyes, I told her that in making this statement I really was thinking about the interconnectedness of it all. The good. The bad. The indifferent. The humble. And yes, even the sometimes pompous nature of the world we live in. I told her that as I watched her create her artwork in our yard, and me tilling up my dirt--that I often times stand in my yard just taking it all in. No intrigue, just me and the yard communing together as an interconnected whole. While doing so, I told her that sometimes I find myself drifting off and thinking about the world around me. She indicated that she had observed me in the yard scratching my head and pulling on my beard. She said that she just thought I had been bitten by a chigger or mosquito and didn’t even think to contemplate that I was deep in philosophical thought while the dust swirled about and settled around me. She went on to say that she had actually observed me doing this on multiple occasions and thought it was my A.D.D. kicking in and that I was just trying to slow down my dirt sifting through procrastination and head/beard scratching. Go figure.

With the exception of my bald head, beard scratching and procrastination, I told her how I actually thought often about how all of these things are interconnected and yet far too often we take the simple things in life for granted. You know the grass, dirt, sand, trees, the flowers and yes even our fellow humans that make up our world. I told her that in doing so, I find temporary respite in the quite refuge of our yard and just take in the beauty of the little niche within the ONE EARTH that we call home. All the challenges, all the worries, all the emotional sensationalism running amuck and all my baggage boils down to my thinking through and interacting with the grass and dirt in my life and yard.

I told her that I found grass and dirt (like worms) to be an interesting reflection of the world we live in. Always there but far too often ignored. She of course just looked at me like she needed to take me to the emergency room to make sure I wasn’t having a heat induced psychotic episode as I had been out in the sun all day turning up my dirt. I told her, no really, just think about it.

I told her that despite my sarcasm about pampas (or pompous) grass I just found the mental image of seemingly unrelated things to be interesting. I told her that a few minutes before we were looking at this unassuming clump of grass that would eventually become part of our local earthly world at home. That eventually it and others like it would find their way to our yard and become inextricably linked to our house and our lives. We would find joy, beauty and comfort in our interaction with this modest little clump as we watched it grow into a beautiful tall stem with any variety of panicles (I think these are like little flowers {not petunias} at the end of the stem and can come in a variety of colors).

I asked her again to just think about it. Our domain of grass, dirt, trees and flowers are really just an extension the garden of humanity, nature and the world we live in.

In that garden, there are multiple kinds of annuals and perennials that interact with and in our natural world of grass and dirt. Some are long lived while others have very short life spans. Regardless, they all contribute to the goodness of this little blue planet and the ecosystem(s) we live within. They all help make our world something bigger than an individual manifestation of one thing or another. Despite how we may try to assemble or isolate the pieces and parts, nothing is truly alone and separate from another. I told her that in making the pompous comment, my mind had taken me on an excursion where I simply thought about how we all interact and treat each other and how the grass just served as a visual stimuli to get me thinking.

On one hand (or foot) I love to walk through the grass barefoot and feel the blades tickle my feet.

On another, there are grasses with signs on them that say "do not enter" or “don’t walk on the grass.”

Then there are places like the Konza Prairie that serve as a reminder of the fragility of the grasses in our lives. That through human interaction and a seemingly never ending stream of ambivalence to the challenges we are facing this little area (also known as The Last Stand of the Tall Grass Prairie) may just help us put the “nature of things” into perspective with a different orientation. One that could take us from the “pompous” nature of our being singularly self-important members of the earth we live in to one of mutual existence and caring for one another.

I just told her that in looking at the pampas grass, I could look at it and take it at face value and easily dismiss it with an attitude that is was just another clump of something or a weed, toxic and invasive as it may be depending on my perspective, and just look at it with pompous disdain or indifference.

Or, I could actually observe it and the beauty around me. Her. Our daughters. The others around us and/or seperated by distance. The beauty of this little clump of grass. The beauty of my world. The beauty of my fellow humans. A simple beauty. A beauty that serves as a poignant reminder of the simplicity of life and how all things are connected and intertwined. That maybe, just maybe, I could keep trying to retool my thinking to underscore to myself that I am just one thing in a grander scheme of things. A thought where I could use this experience to relish the life I was given, embrace my being in this place at this time, use this snap shot in time to learn something about myself and the interdependencies influencing my world.  

And, in my contemplation of grass, dirt and the life we are given, I might just be able to just look at things simply for what they are—different; individual as they may be and beautiful in their own right--and in doing so I might be able to see the true interconnections of it all and realize that ultimately I and we are part of a greater whole.

A world where the grasses of peace, positivity, kindness and goodwill can level the playing field of the landscapes in our lives regardless of our differences.

For other works by Joel Anderson: https://www.bebee.com/@joel-anderson

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author