How do I explain it to the dear man? It’s just the feeling of that grass on the soles of my feet. It’s an in-between feeling. It’s neither soft nor prickly. Just the right ticklish feeling. I love it. But, for him I am making his life very very difficult. He just wants me to have the perfect clean feet. That's it. Pleasures be damned!
What is with grass and me? I also love the fragrance of cut grass. The fragrance is just intoxicating. I love sitting on the pile of cut grass…look up in the sky and let my mind wander. There are times when I can swear that the clouds are making funny faces at me. Its like they are not too happy that they are so far away from the pile of cut grass. They wanna sink into the intoxicating fragrance as much as I do. Just sinkkkkk into it.
Other times Sweety my mutt and I run round and round in the lawn…its like we both are competing who will run faster and topple the other over. She almost always wins by ensuring that she topples me with her fancy manoeuvres. Then we just flop down on the lawn. I have spent many a days playing this mad game with her. There is nothing that beats the feeling of grass on my feet. I have a feeling sweety loves it as much as I do.
Today I feel like taking off my high heels and run with gay abandon on the grass. Today I really want to feel good. Today I do want to intoxicate myself with the heady fragrance.
Why do we feel guilty when we do something that makes us feel so right? Why can’t we just think of the amazing feeling of the grass and not worry about the green stains?
Simple pleasures are always the last refuge of the complex Oscar Wilde. Seed for thought?!!