My Lawn
#farmlife #farm #laurafarms #lawn #field
Out here on the farm, the word “lawn” doesn’t quite mean what it might in town. In the suburbs, a lawn is a neatly trimmed patch of green, maybe bordered by a sidewalk and a white picket fence. But on the farm, my lawn blends into the fields, stretches toward the horizon, and carries with it the rhythm of rural life.
We don’t manicure our lawn with the precision of a golf course. Our “front yard” is a mix of mowed grass, prairie patches, and a scattering of wildflowers that came back again this spring. Some areas are clipped neatly for the kids to play or for a BBQ setup, but other parts are left to nature. Out here, we measure beauty not in symmetry, but in what grows and survives — what thrives in spite of wind, sun, and the dust that sometimes hangs in the air during planting season.
I love this lawn because it tells the story of our life on the land. The tire tracks in the grass come from the ATV that hauls feed or takes us out to the back 40. The bare patch under the tree is where our dogs always nap, keeping watch like loyal sentinels. Even the occasional weed or dandelion feels like part of the story — stubborn, resilient, and rooted.
Farming isn’t always glamorous. There’s a lot of sweat, mud, and hours behind a wheel. But then you step outside after a long day, and the sun is just about to set. The light hits that stretch of grass in front of the house, turning everything golden. The wind sways the tall grass at the edge of the lawn, and for a moment, everything feels still and right. That’s the kind of peace only farm life can offer.
When we mow the lawn here, we’re not just tidying up. We’re maintaining a buffer between the wild fields and our little piece of calm. The cornfields might march up to the edge, and soybeans may sway in the breeze, but the lawn is where we gather. It’s where the kids play tag while supper’s on the grill, and where we kick back with a cold drink after harvest.
Sometimes we bring the lawn chairs out past the yard and into the field, just to sit and watch the sunset across rows of crops. We do our best thinking out there, between the rows, under the sky. There’s something about open space that clears your mind and makes your heart grateful.
Farm life has its ups and downs, but my lawn — my field-adjacent slice of life — is where those moments of gratitude settle. It’s more than grass. It’s our landing pad, our meeting place, and our front-row seat to the seasons changing before our eyes.
So yeah, it may not be the kind of lawn you see in a magazine, and that’s just fine with me. Because on this farm, with these views, and this life, it’s perfect in its own way.
