the grass is riz
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Kokubunji, 2020.11.02
We've been diligently watering the grass and watching for some sign of life but we were beginning to think it hadn't worked when Mari spotted tiny shoots all over the tiny yard. She came to the double sliding doors between the living room and yard and knocked with a big smile on her face. I unlocked the floor lock, then the door, and she pointed out the good news.