Zen and the art of grass growing

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I have fake grass in my new garden. It’s a good fake grass, like premium quality, top of the heap fakery, moulded to the undulated space. Thankfully it doesn’t look at all like a mini golf course. (See above.)

I never thought I would have fake grass. I like it more than I thought imaginable.

Fake is the new real.

The reason for the grass is that there are huge trees and I doubt real grass would get enough light to flourish.

One less thing to do. More time to spend being creative, so why then am I blogging about fake grass?

Because it’s my blog and I can putt if I want to…

See what I did there?

Yes, badly.

But having less gardening to do is a good thing, even though I cried when I had to leave behind the trees I had planted at the other house.

As my Buddhist friend said to me, ‘You can’t own a tree; the trees are for everyone. No one owns the seeds, as they spread through life on winds and prayers. Let go and stop fucking whinging about your trees.’

Right on.

Happy Tuesday Treehuggers.

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