The Grass Isn't Always Greener

A definite sign of spring in Colorado is when the lawn sprinklers emerge. No one cares much about the grass when it’s periodically covered in snow. But come May, it’s game on and a race to green.

This particular spring, however, is unusual because we had one of the mildest winters on record. It never really snowed, and the few times that it did, it snowed so little we didn’t even need to shovel. I don’t think I wore mittens once all winter. My kids had their first snow day of the entire school year on May 7th, when most of us had already been wearing flip flops for weeks.

While the country’s coasts were battered with storm after storm, we sat idle here, waiting with great anticipation for a hit that never came.

Now we are heading into summer. The schools go on break this week, the pools are opening, and vacations are on the books.

But guess what’s not swimsuit ready? My lawn. It certainly has seen better springs.

Somehow, over all these past months, I missed the lawn’s demise. I figured it would find its way to the lush green of the past like it always did.

But a couple of weeks ago, when I went out to pull some weeds I noticed from the window, I stood and looked around and saw so many others, I didn’t even know where to start.

Dandelions, crabgrass, and clover, oh my.

The grass was in a fight with the weeds and the weeds were winning.

Turns out it’s the mild winter’s fault. As nice as it was to wear shorts in February, the weeds knew better.

During a typically cold winter, grass enters a dormant phase. It’s a survival mechanism to allow for rest, metabolic restoration, and energy conservation. Dormancy also protects the grass from premature growth in cold temperatures where it can’t survive. In spring, the grass returns from hibernation, strong and ready to flourish.

But with an unexpectedly mild winter, the grass never fully reaches this important dormant state. Instead, it only half-sleeps, and returns weaker, unable to compete with the hardy weeds that are more tolerant of colder temperatures.

Dormant periods are necessary for survival.

With grass and with people, too.

In this go-go-go world of ours where productivity and accomplishment reign, we often compromise on rest.

We forget that our minds and bodies not only crave, but need, times when we do nothing, grow nothing, create nothing, achieve nothing.

And half-rest isn’t real rest, even though it looks a lot like it.

We think we are having “downtime,” but it’s so rare when our systems are actually down.

We sit on the beach while answering emails. We walk outside with headphones plugged in our ears. We settle for six hours of sleep to squeeze in one more episode. We reach for our phone before our eyes have time to adjust to the natural light. We are constantly interrupted by notifications that pull our attention away from what, or who, is right in front of us.

God forbid we sit in a waiting room chair, or ride an elevator, or stand in a line, without scrolling.

Hobbies have given way to more work. Boundaries have given way to constant accessibility. And boredom—remember boredom?—is a thing of the past. We’ve traded it in for cortisol.

Half-rest leads to half-restoration and half-restoration leads to half-life.

It’s like decaf coffee. What even is the point?

Sometimes we need to turn off, pull the escape hatch, and give our roots and cells opportunities to sleep, repair, and restore. We need breaks. Like real breaks. So that next season, we can come back with the vigor and life we need to fight off the weeds.

It’s not laziness. It’s preparation.

My memoir, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, is available here.

Have you ever wanted to write your life story but you don’t know where to start? Join me for a one-hour online (you don’t even have to leave your home) legacy writing workshop on June 22, 2026. Sign up here.