I am working on my book in a secret getaway this week. I brought Cholula the Wonderdog for company and beach walking incentives. It has been nice to go feral–waking up when I wake up, eating the same thing again and again, wearing the same outfit for days and taking fetch breaks on the beach with dog when I’m not making running leaps at the book.
Cholula is tired of the book part of things, of me, always at the computer, staring, typing, typing, staring, more typing. It is very boring for her.
But she’s super into the lawn here. She rolls on it, insists on being outside to lie on it, and she nestles into it while she naps on it and looks like she is hugging it with her whole body. We don’t have a real lawn at our house. We have a no-mow, no-water grassy area in the front, but the ‘grass’ is about 12 inches high and has largely been taken over by California poppies and sweet alyssum. It is abuzz with bees and there are dog turds hidden throughout. In Lula’s eyes, it is not a lawn. She doesn’t treat it as such. She doesn’t roll on it or even lie on it. I would need to mow it for it to be a lawn. She would be so happy if I did this for her.
Today, she presented me with this poem, her first. It is about the lawn. After reading her poem today, I think when I get home, I will.
By Cholula the Wonderdog Audley-White
LAWN! Oh, Lawn.!
You are the most wonderful lawn ever, lawn.
Lawn, I rilly rilly love you, lawn.