As I was walking my three daughters to school, we all looked up and noticed that the sky was pink. My oldest said that this meant rain. My middle child agreed. My youngest had a different opinion: "Maybe it will rain pink lemonade." "Yes," I said. "Wouldn't that be grand."
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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