The sweet smells of...autumn?

The grass in our backyard decided to take off like there was no tomorrow, and in the last week or so, it has grown so tall that if I let Reagan out in it, she would be hidden.  I use to wonder about that redneck joke: what does a redneck security system look like?  Answer: grass so tall you can't see the car or the front porch, so would be burglars would get lost and die of thirst before they ever found their way out again.  I've gained a new appreciation for that little joke.  Once the first autumn rains hit, the grass just takes off like wildfire.  Neatly clipped and groomed lawns suddenly sprout green oceans of grass and slumbering wild flowers wake up and give us nodding blooms.

I was saying that since the grass has grown so tall in our backyard, I've had to send the girls out into the front yard which necessitates my standing or sitting on the front porch watching them.  Most parents in this neighborhood don't do that, so I'm sure that I am considered over-cautious, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.  So, today, I let the girls outside, grabbed a couple bubble wands and we spent an hour blowing bubbles.  It was delicious fun watching Reagan's golden hair whip this way and that as she darted around trying to pop as many bubbles as she could.  Even Georgianna participated.  She stood on the porch and squealed and squeaked and looked pleased that she got to be outside, too.

The late morning and early afternoon were gloriously sunny.  Our concrete porch was warm underneath my barefeet, and the damp smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air.  I heard lawn mowers start and stop and restart like a strange automotive chorus.  I wondered if Tanner would be able to mow the lawn this week, but didn't like to ask him.  I contemplated asking Jonathan, only he hasn't been feeling well lately.  So, I sat on the porch and watched the tip of a thunderhead creep toward our house.

A few minutes later I felt the first splash of rain, and watched all the well trained, texas-native children glance up and then scurry into their houses.  I called to my wandering girls who clambered up the steps with crestfallen faces.  An ominous wind kicked up as I gathered the bubble wands and plastic cups.  By the time I had ushered the girls into the house and closed the door a steady rain was falling and the air was cooling down.  Perhaps the lawn will get mowed one day, perhaps not, but at least an unmowed lawn is giving me days like this, where I take time out of my studying, baking, cooking and cleaning to watch little hands tickling the underbellies of glistening, wet blossoms of bubbles.