We’ve had some beautiful days lately, with no, or few, clouds, and blue skies that would be the envy of an Olan Mills photo backdrop. Childhood memories tell me what I should be doing.

I remember fondly laying in the lawn of St. Augustine grass, particularly when it had not been cut recently, and looking into the sky, sometimes absentmindedly grabbing a blade of grass to nibble on. Sometimes those blades turned into musical instruments (noise makers, really) by splitting a bit of the middle seam and then folding the blade in half length-wise. Blowing through the slit made a weird sound only appreciated by boys under the age of 9.

Those were times of “being in the moment,” which is so difficult for grown-ups to do that there are now speakers, coaches, workshops and presentations on how to “be in the moment.” As kids, we didn’t know about all that, but we did know that the moment we were in called for us to do nothing but breathe, look at the sky, and maybe chat if we were with a friend. Sky watching and grass nibbling were perfect for solitary times or times with a friend.

I’m pretty sure that if nowadays I tried laying on the ground to watch the sky, it would take me some time and finagling to get back to a vertical position, but that’s okay. The call to do nothing but sky gaze, while sensing the temperature, the feel of the grass, the sounds of the birds (or the silence) and such is strong, and tempting. Perhaps an Adirondack chair is a happy middle level to provide me a view of the sky and clouds, but not require the machinations of movement to return to a standing position. Who knows, maybe I’ll lay on the ground, gazing upward, with my hands folded behind my head and nibble on some grass while enjoying the moments of being alive. (And if it rains, I’ll just sit on the front porch and watch the world go by…moment by moment.)