Barefoot Walking

Another glorious October afternoon; one to be enjoyed reading outside. A gust of wind sent my book mark sailing out on to the sweet, green grass. Barefoot, I stepped on the cool grass and immediately was catapulted back to my childhood. Shoes and socks were objects I shunned in those days. The grass was sensual, like velvet, beneath my feet today.

My mother often admonished me that I would rue the day I walked barefoot across not only grass but gravel as well. I would arrive home at the end of the day with grimy feet. A sturdy brush and soapy water would take care of the dirt. These feet were toughened to explore without pain. I still can feel the cool, slippery surface of a beaver dam as I walked across; while looking for a key log or stick to dislodge the dam. There was a certain thrill when the water would gush over the weakened dam. Beavers are destined to build dams but their dams flood precious farm fields. Almost immediately these industrious creatures would repair my damage and the game was on.

Barefoot, I would wander across muddy fields, allowing cool muck to squish between my toes. The only fields I would avoid were those that the grain had newly been harvested. The straw stalks were sharp and would cut my ankles.

These toes and feet have matured and are not as tough as they once were but thanks to regular pedicures they have suffered no irreversible damage. They are not beautiful but still do the job and keep me upright.  Sorry mom but you were wrong.



It was great to revisit wonderful childhood memories while venturing onto the grass without shoes and socks once again.


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