[OT] The magic of grass (the lawn variety)

Work was busy, stressful and demanding. I came home with a headache and sore
feet, exhausted and grumpy. Playing with Cary was a chore rather than
enjoyable, because every single one of his delighted squeals was like a
dagger through my sore head and running after him just made my feet hurt
more.

polonca12000...

He got a simple tricycle (no pedals) for Christmas. Its actually a bit too
small for him really, being a tall fellow for his age, but he uses it
regardless and can hurtle down slopes at speeds that puts my heart in my
throat, but he loves it (and, I have to admit, can handle very well).

On days he doesn't go to daycare, it was becoming increasingly obvious that
he needs to let off some of that energy toddlers seem to create without any
effort whatsoever. So, as much as I entirely didn't want to do it, I took
myself, Cary and tricycle out into the front yard where he can ride his
tricycle up and down the driveway. The driveway is a long one, and it has a
decent enough slope so he can get up the speeds he desires. I had hoped that
I coud sit somewhere quiet so not to be on my feet and not to have my head
hurt more, and supervise him from a distance whilst he burned off hte excess
energy and thereby not keep wiggling and squirming long after his bedtime.

It wasn't to be, however, and The Yowlet used the trike to take himself to
his
daycare, which is next door but one from us. Of course I had to go after
him, and found myself running across soft fresh grass with my bare feet.

I had totally forgotten just how good grass can feel under bare feet. I
chided myself, what sort of Paganesque person could I possibly be if I don't
even remember how wonderful and refreshing just plain old grass feels like?
But as said son took it upon himself to visit every single house on our side
of
the street using his trike as an "excuse" I found myself drawing more and
more energy from the grass beneath me, and then the trees above me, and hte
sky, and clouds and wind and sunlight.

And now, every day, I slip off my shoes and go walking in my favourite patch
of grass, watching the clouds scud past. My son and I stand inthe puddles
and stamp our feet, splashing each other. We fling mud at each toher. We
watch the myriad of birds go past. See the different types of ants go
marching by (and sing the song that one has to when ants go marching by).
Its no longer just about burning off his energy so that I can go to bed
early, but now its time spent together, not *out*side but *in* nature. But
the best thing for me, after watching my son smile and laugh along with me,
is to feel the grass beneath my bare feet again.

Cheryl Sellner...

What tranquil thoughts I have just reading your story. Thanks for
sharing. Now, *my* grass, OTOH, is not safe to walk barefoot
through. You sink in due to moles, risk sharp pointy sticks from
the big oak trees that constantly lose them, and if you're really
unlucky, a bee sting or two.

My head and feet are no longer as sore, and I don't fall into bed so utterly
exhausted. The simple, uncomplicated magic of grass and birds and ants and
trees and wind and clouds and sun even rain is entirely underappreicated,
and I'm so glad my son reminded me of it. When on earth did I forget?

Marina...

What a lovely post, Vicky. I feel refreshed just reading it. Can't go
walking in the grass myself right now, as it is about -10 C (15-ish F)
outside and the snow is coming down, or rather blowing horizontally, in
droves, but I can dream myself onto the island in summer, walking

Wayne Mitchell...

Shouldn't that be "in drivens"? :-)

barefoot on the smooth, sun-warmed cliffs by the sea.

polonca12000...

What a lovely story! Thank you so much for sharing it with us!
Best wishes to you and your family,
Polonca and Soncek

Adrian...

What a wonderfull uplifting story. I can see Cary is going to grow to be an
exeptionally nice person, just like his mother. :-)

sriddles...

I think everyone discovers that having a toddler means *you* get to
rediscover being a child all over again. Or at least I sincerely hope
so, that it isn't a gift that is overlooked by anyone too busy to
discover it.
Sit under a tree and read to him. It's great. Let him stay up past his
bedtime and lie on a quilt in the yard and find the Big Dipper. Catch
fireflies in a jar. Fish for crawdads.
What you're doing is seeing the world through Cary's eyes, and the
words you described it are perfect. It is simple, uncomplicated magic,
and entirely unappreciated.
Cary is a lucky boy to have such a smart mom.