Grass.

Grass is compelling. It springs up in cities and countrysides. It clutters the space between sidewalk slats. It's a bit like wild, sustainable, outdoor carpet.

I have this body spray from the GAP called "Grass." I wanted it because of its calm green color and also because anything grass-related lifts my spirits. But before today, I didn't realize that grass really does have a remarkable fragrance. GAP did a good job imitating its scent. It is tart and fresh and sweet and joyful. Beneath our trudging feet, it grows in understated complexity. It is beautiful. A forest that shelters tiny insect cities.

Two Thursdays ago, yoga and discussion time made me painfully aware that for a long, stressful period I had chosen to remain unaware of small blessings. That day I finally smelled the pink flowering trees in the Rogers parking lot I had before then only glanced at in passing. Since then, I wonder at the moon, revel in the first blue sky we've seen in weeks, and today I smelled grass.

It's been worth it.