Nostalgia in the Grass

This evening I escaped my house (which was hot) and sat outside on the patio, where a fresh little breeze was blowing. Somehow our house retains all the heat and mugginess and cool air doesn't make it inside. So I sat outside breathing in the air, enjoying the idea that this is my last week of work until August.

Then I noticed that my lawn needed mowing. Once I notice something like this I can't relax until the job is done; I dragged out the mower, primed it, and yanked the cord until the machine sputtered to life. The grass was slightly damp--it had rained earlier--and I didn't want to risk grass stains, so I took off my shoes and mowed the lawn in bare feet.

Boy, did that take me back in time! When's the last time you walked in wet grass in bare feet? I felt like I was ten again, and I remembered how wonderful damp grass feels, and how good it smells when you mow it. Better yet, I ran my cutter over a hidden patch of wild onions, which added their own special aroma to my little summer revel.

I once read that of the five senses, smell is the one most linked to memory. I believe this, especially after an experience like today's, when just smelling freshly-cut grass transported me to the days that I frolicked on my parents' lawn, leaping through a sprinkler and then pretending that my towel, which I tucked into my bathing suit, was the train of a beautiful gown. Never mind that my feet were green from the wet grass (as they were today); for that time, I was royalty, and summer lasted forever.

I think I'm a farm girl at heart, because there's just something about the smell of grass, of earth, that makes me happy. It's aromatherapy, and it's free. Give it a try.