The Grass is Always Greener

“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey–work of the stars.” -Walt Whitman

Jonathan Chapman / Columnist

Do you feel bad when you walk on one of Elon’s finest and most well-kept assets — its grass?

I remember walking to class in the fall and watching the landscaping crews work diligently to beautify our campus. They were meticulous in spacing the thousands of pansies around the campus, they carefully edged the paths and waded in the fountain, cleansing its waters.

Then they are forced to watch as students ignore their hard work and trudge over the freshly-manicured lawns as they rush to their next class — their work regarded as little more than just another path.

But, when running late for an appointment, even the best of us must admit that at one point or another, we have all trampled the unnaturally clean and green grass.

As for me, I always try to use the bricked paths, but alas, I am human. I recall one particular time I sinned. I was rushing back to my dorm across from Koury Center between classes to change my books when I began my bad dash across the green space in front of Carlton. Looking around for fear of being caught in the middle of my transgression, I noticed a squirrel on an oak tree intensely watching me.

I stopped. I stared back.

For what seemed like an eternity, we held each other’s eyes. Who would make the first move? Who would dare to take that first step? Who would cross that invisible line drawn in the grass?

It did.

It charged down the massive oak trunk, running directly for my feet. It reached the grass and continued to speed toward me with acorns flying from its hind feet. There was a shriek as a flock of birds left the surrounding oaks as one black mass.

For a split second, all the people around the source of the scream froze and searched with frantic eyes, half expecting to find a dead 11-year- old on the ground. But then, to my dismay and their amusement, they realized that it was I who released the banshee-like screech.

Looking back, I can’t decide what was more funny — my fear-filled shriek or the squirrel itself. I kept thinking that my attacker had been enlisted by the landscapers to defend their hard work.

So, the next time you’re running late to a class and are contemplating creating your own brick-free path, remember, you don’t just have to worry about your conscience.

You have to worry about the squirrels too.