We live on a dirt road, and it brings to mind, sometimes, women from my childhood, solemnly sweeping dirt yards in front of small frame houses. I wondered, as we would drive slowly past in my daddy’s car at his favorite Sunday afternoon speed, why the yards weren’t thick grass, like mine. Without even a ragged patch of crabgrass, this bare ground appeared intentional, neat as could be, cared for.
Today we don’t have a thick grass yard, but we’ve pushed thick tree leaves away from our small frame home and encouraged moss to grow. I don’t think moss would grow so well in the hot sandy soil of eastern Carolina. I’m happy to live in a place where moss grows, and tiny plants of St. Andrew’s cross and wood violets randomly push through. It’s not nearly as neat as the yard-sweepers’, though. Today it was littered with new fallen twigs and last year’s leaf litter. Guess what I used to sweep it up.~K