There’s nothing more beautiful to my eye and my soul than Nebraska springtime after the rain.
I was overwhelmed with thankfulness as I walked into class this morning, beholding the land, breathing in the sweet scent of spring. I’m so thankful to be located on Lincoln’s lovely East Campus, strewn with flowering trees, green grass, and freshly turned fields.
As the agricultural campus of Nebraska’s land grant university, we enjoy a bit of farm life right in the middle of the city. Little plats of experimental fields surround the campus. In summer and fall they are green or brown with corn or soybeans or the like. But in spring, they are the dark black of rich, life-giving earth.
After a rainstorm, the gravel roads that lead to the fields turn muddy, dandelions pop up seemingly overnight, and the grass grows so green it almost hurts to look at it.
This is my favorite part of springtime in Nebraska–the sharp contrast between the rich dark soil and the startlingly brilliant green grass.
I long to take off my shoes, to run in this grass, to squidge my toes into the earth. And sometimes, I do.
Yesterday I was wearing a pair of shoes that were unkind to my feet. I took it as an excuse to slip them off and to walk on the grass beside the walk instead of on the walk itself. Undoubtedly I looked undignified, wending my way through the grass in my stockinged feet and proper skirt set. When I took off my stockings at home, they were ruined–completely grass-stained. But a pair of stockings is a small thing to sacrifice for the delightfulness of walking (nearly) barefoot on Nebraska’s good land–in the grass after the rain.
A rather involved recipe–and not quite as good as I’d have liked. It was good but not fantastic.
