It is true. I hitchhiked in Australia with only a pack on my back and a worn out map. I spoke my plans out loud so the driver at the petrol station could hear. He took me to as far as the next town two hours away. And then I stuck my thumb out and got lucky. That driver took me to the beach, my destination, and from there, I was all by myself again.
It wasn't tall fescue at all; it was Bermuda. I had sown thousands upon thousands of tall fescue seeds in a small patch of my yard, but time and time again, the Southern sun would burn them off and turn the soil into dust. So I tried another type of seed. The analogy presented itself. The ground can be fertile, but at the end of the day, it is the type of seed we plant that matters.
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