Daddy planted rye grass

So I asked Mom if she wanted me to plant rye grass this fall. "OH. No. No. No." she replied. Daddy always planted winter rye grass and had the most beautiful green lawn all winter long. He enjoyed having soft,green grass while all the neighbors suffered with their brown crunchy yards. But he also grumbled all winter when he had to continue to cut his grass and those around him didn't. That's the part mama was remembering. In the end, it was worth the effort.

So today I was on water duty. (It takes nearly an hour to properly water everything in the yard Daddy has planted EVERYWHERE. Such a farmer at heart he was forever buying seeds for new plants he wanted to try out or breaking off a seed pod out somewhere-restaurants, stores, whatever. No planter was off limits). As I moved through the back yard, I began to notice something interesting. There are little sprouts of grass everywhere, mostly showing up in previously bare spots. There they are, poking their little blades up through the South Carolina red clay. Saluting to anyone who would notice. I began to look among the other established grasses and sure enough-rye grass.

Now winter rye grass is supposed to only last one season. You're SUPPOSED to have to replant it each fall. But seeds in my Daddy's hand turned magic. They had no choice but to grow. So this first winter without him, seeds dropped from last winter have taken root and now are reaching to heaven as if to honor his untiring efforts to prepare the soil, to plant, to grow, to reap.

As I thought through this scenario, I was both admonished and encouraged. I was admonished to plant seeds. So many people came to us when Daddy died to tell us of the seeds he had planted in their lives, of how they had grown and what that had meant to them. I can still picture his gnarly old finger as he would poke a hole in the soil, cover it up, give it a pat and move on down the row. May I ever be constant in the planting of seeds....

And there is encouragement as well. Sometimes we put so much effort into someone, or some project or lesson or music. And from what we can see, there does not seem to be much in the way of results for our efforts. But always remember Daddy's rye grass. You never know what's taken root, what's living below the surface that is just waiting there ready to sprout and grow.

I have to wonder what kind of heavenly plants Daddy is enjoying today......Hey Dad! Toss down some seeds for me and Andy!