I was out early this morning. The sun rising in the notch to be up even longer then the accounted for minutes.
I was picking grasses. Because with my wildflowers i feel i have come to a ceiling. To know the name of every next unidentified flower i meet, it feels impossible. So i resolute to take on grasses.
I know grasses from rushes and sedges.
But to know which grass it is; it is all a mystery to me. Is it fescue or a bluegrass this could be some kind of wild oats for all i know?
grasping for grasses
my last straw
like grass my marriage persist