I sink my feet into the damp earth, seeing the grass unfurl its rich green between my toes. I swear I hear an owl. At 10 in the morning? He must be as confused as I am. The ash grey clouds hang heavy above, and flick drops of water at my head. A blade of grass is weighed down by droplets that seem too heavy for it to bear. I tell it that I understand, and that the sun will come out soon to lighten its load. It whispers the same message back to me. We have an understanding, that blade and I.