There is a well tread shortcut through the grass between the zebra crossing on the service road and the middle bus stop on campus. It's not a great time saving shortcut, but for those of us who like straight lines and get a tiny thrill of rebellion for nonconformity, it's the preferred route. I rarely see people take it, but it must be well liked because it takes the work of many feet at frequent enough intervals to wear a dirt line across a field of grass.
On my way back from campus this afternoon, heading west to the Quays with the sun just above a cloud bank, I opted for a change and took this thin dirt track which runs at a diagonal to the pavement. I expected it to be a bit muddy as it rained yesterday and it didn't disappoint. I was surprised to see tiny needle like blades of grass coming up through the dirt, trying to reestablish itself. I felt a sense of wonder at how quickly it must have grown. Was it only since yesterday when it rained? I hadn't noticed it before. Did this mean I had for once in my life walked somewhere with my head up? I liked to think it was a day's growth, all happened overnight. What an ambitious plant. It's magic: dirt one day and grass the next. And as I walked, marveling at the delicate and determined blades of day-old grass that passed beneath my feet, I did feel a bit guilty.
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