Weekly enthusiasms

A weekly review of something I love.

Grass naps!

  Image: Ed Hart  via Flickr

Image: Ed Hart via Flickr

Memorial Day has come and gone, which means that the official best season has unofficially begun. I understand some people may disagree. These are people who enjoy paying money to hurtle themselves down mountains or are reinvigorated by their once-numb extremities regaining feeling. They are all very sweet but very, very wrong. Summer is the only time of year that matters, especially here in New England where our other seasons are "Didn't God and Noah make a promise about this???" and "Planet Hoth." 

The best part about summer is that on 92.23009234089% of days (repeating, of course) the outside is an enjoyable place to be, even if it is raining a bit or the middle of the night. It's the time for patio beers and sitting on docks and walking somewhere just because and, most importantly, GRASS NAPS. 

Grass naps, like all variety of naps, are best enjoyed at a duration of around 20-30 minutes—making it an ideal lunch break activity if your place of work is nearish to some sort of grassy expanse that people enjoy for leisure activities like playing frisbee and having a dog. I recommend a spot just at the edge of some tree's shadow, where the light is dappled but the sun is still blanket-warm. If you are lucky, there will be birds chirping and the kind of dull, white-noise hum of a distant industrial concrete processing plant to lull you to sleep. (Ah, Boston!) 

But Jamie, won't people think I'm weird for sleeping outside? Well, honestly, maybe. But you will be asleep so you won't even notice. "The grass so little has to do," wrote Emily Dickinson in a poem that could maybe be interpreted as an early ode to grass naps. Idleness is a state we all too often fail to really achieve, given there is always ~a thing~ threatening to interrupt. So, embrace quietude with a grass nap. Be the hay! 

Anyways, when you have sunglasses on, it'll be hard for anyone to tell at first glance if you're asleep or even dead, just like Weekend at Bernie's. 

 

 

*It's not.