Grass

I'm lucky enough to have some great green spaces and walking routes right on my doorstep. We have developed our own names for these routes and landmarks: if one of us had walked through the fields, we'd know precisely the circuit they'd done; or I could have gone down the lane, to the triangle, or along the back (not to be confused with 'along the back of the trees').

Last night, I went through the fields. I've not been there for a couple of weeks, and in the intervening time, the grass must have grown rampant, then been cut and silaged: yesterday, most of the field was a slightly chlorotic inch-high stubble. However, in a thick swathe around the edge of the fields, the grass had not been cut, and was reaching 12 inches and taller. Insects were on wing, drifting lazily in the humid, breezeless air. 

I've always known that grassland is usually made up of more than one monocot, but I hadn't quite appreciated the range of grasses that comprise a meadow until last night, so I challenged myself to picked one of every different kind I could see.

Then laid them out like a police lineup. There were some with bobs...

...and others that were brush-like...

...and finally outwards-stretching spikes that didn't quite understand the concept of personal space.

Hayfever sufferers everywhere may be shrinking away from these images, but you have to appreciate that there is beauty in grasses' diversity.