Personal memory by Becca T
2010 • Kentucky, USA
Neighboring houses with freshly cut striped lawns and carefully trimmed shrubs, my home is a wildflower in a field of rose. Tall native grasses and wildflowers line the driveway and blend into the vibrant garden that hugs the house: a safe haven for bees, butterflies, bunnies, quail!My neighbor would take my siblings and me to school in the morning and would often comment on the "wild", "unkept" nature of our front yard with a judgemental glare. Later, I asked my parents their thoughts on the "look" of our home: "It was like that when we got here. Why change it?" I've always admired this outlook on land and the mindset of being gentle to our surroundings and providing a safe space for pollinators to thrive. However, I have always had a really hard time understanding my father's (and his side of the family's) desire to hunt for sport. Their yearly "quail hunts" made me sick. I didn't want anything to do with it. It made me question a lot about my father's intentions for creating and maintaining these natural grass/ wildflower fields. Loving the land but so quickly turning away at the attraction of sport.
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