THIS IS grass weather. The summery air has been dry, and if you get far enough away from the cars, it is clear. The grass doesn't grow now, it shoots. Growth has been occurring all spring, but in earthy June, the grasses rise in a response of lushness. The blades, whether in the manicured lawn or the country pasture untended by anything but the sun, cut through the surface of the soil in their annual uprising.
It might be thought that man would be content to be a spectator at this show. But the other day, the improvers on nature were at work again. It seems that when officials of the United States Golf Association examined the rough along the fairways of the Southern Hills course in Tulsa where the Open was being played, the grass was found to be too short. Thus, when one gold star or another sinned by drifting from the straight and narrow path of the fairway, he would find a rough that wasn't so rough at all. The officials summoned the chemists. The latter came through, applying a chemical that forces the grass to grow faster and thicker.
This may have made for a tougher challenge for the golfers, but the older method of inducing growth - water and sunshine - still holds among the farmers. For them, these are haying days. The first crop is being cut, baled and stored. The process has been taken over somewhat by technology, with automatic balers now in use. But in some of the rural places, the horse-drawn flatbed is still good enough. The mowed hay is pitched on, and at the end of the afternoon the children of the farm are summoned for they hayride. This is part of June's uprising too - the lifting of emotions over the simple delight of moving at three or four miles on farm roads and viewing life from atop the hay.
Quality hay, like good grass, is judged less on its texture than on its smell. If the soil is rich in minerals and the April rains have done their work, the newly cut hay has a soft fragrance that rivals the scents of June's flowers. At this time of year, grass all but rises to the level of florid growth. Without argument, except perhaps from those who have to cut it, it surely has a beauty of itsown