Dry Lawns and Starting from Here

On Monday we flew home after a wonderful 10-day vacation. As we rounded the corner, we looked forward to seeing our home, surrounded by green trees and green lawn, with bright marigolds lining the path and the front porch. As the house came into view, Paul observed, “The lawn’s a little dry,”

The lawn was a lot dry. Evidently the sprinkler system had suffered a glitch and for 10 hundred-degree days, parts of our lawn had no water. It looked like our house was sitting in a field of straw stubble.

While Paul worked to fix the problem, I chattered about how lawn always comes back and no problem, but deep down I was sad. This was the height of summer: the time for enjoying soft grass under bare feet, the time for croquet and badminton on green turf, the time for lying on the grass and watching stars. Summer wouldn’t be the same on crunchy dry sod.

As we settled in, I was also sad about something else. I had made a promise to myself in January to write a blog post every week. For six months I did it—or at least 4-5 posts a month, if not always posting on the same day each week. Then in July, I didn’t. I managed to write only two posts and now July was over and there was no way to fix that. I found myself thinking, “Oh well. Six months was pretty good. Maybe that’s enough. It just shows I’m not really a writer, or I would have prioritized writing more. Maybe I should just stop.”

The days went by, and I didn’t write. I made excuses. I had things to do, I had to catch up on stuff after the vacation. There was laundry. I had a tree full of ripe apricots.

Then I thought of our lawn and Paul. As soon as we unloaded the car, Paul was outside, getting the water on the lawn, figuring out what had happened to the sprinkler. He has wasted no time on regretting what happened, but he has worked for days trying to get things fixed.

I also thought about something else. Only parts of the yard were dry. The sprinkler worked great on our vegetable garden, which had grown huge and bountifully during our absence. Squash and tomatoes and cucumbers filled the plants; tasseled corn stood higher than the fence with actual ears of corn waiting to be picked. Zinnias exploded on three-foot high bushes.

And my July hadn’t been a waste either. I had done a lot of good stuff during the month. I had helped some neighbors, tended grandchildren, gone to the beach, enjoyed my family. I had done good things in July.

Today, after several days of deep watering, we can see little green sprigs poking up in the yellow. And today, I’m writing again. It feels great.

Stopping for a while does not mean quitting, does not mean giving up, does not mean failure. We can always start again. We can start from wherever we are. We can start watering the brown lawn.

“Please remember tomorrow, and all the days after that, that the Lord blesses those who want to improve. . . . If you stumble in that pursuit, so does everyone; the Savior is there to help you keep going.” (Jeffrey R. Holland, October 2016 LDS Conference. https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2016/04/tomorrow-the-lord-will-do-wonders-among-you?lang=eng)