Taking grass for granted

I realized last night as I sat in the backyard, looking up at the clouds lit up by a full moon, that I took so many things for granted as a kid in the Midwest. First off, I always thought I'd always have a lawn. With plush, deep green grass and no shortage of plants. Probably my yard wouldn't be as perfectly trimmed as that of my neighbors, but it would be a wonderful backyard oasis where I could take off my shoes and let the grass tickle my feet. Every day, if I wanted.

But in the desert, we don't really have lawns. Water saving and all that. I don't even really have a front yard to speak of, and the backyard consists of a brick tiled patio and a bunch of rocks. It's also much tinier than the yards I ran around in in my youth. It's so strange to look back and realize that things that were absolute when you were young are not at all reality in your grown up life.

I love being outside. I love the fact that my house is situated two blocks from the edge of the desert and I can take walks there anytime where it's quiet and there's no traffic or herds of people. I can climb the closest peak and have panoramic views of the surrounding mountains, flanked to the east by the unnatural glow of the Las Vegas strip skyline, the antithesis of all things natural.

20 minutes of hiking and it feels like I'm on the edge of the world, but I still miss walking in grass. I miss its verdant smell after a rain shower and how the dew sticks to it on humid mornings.