The sky looks more blue when you are wearing sunglasses. I wonder if there is a metaphor in this. Is a thing more beautiful when it is view through a dark prism? Is there joy only because there is pain? Do the two work in some mysterious symbiosis? Is this life? Is it about learning to find the good despite the bad?
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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