There's something to be said for a perfectly maintained field of Kentucky blue grass. Its blades, cut to a precise 1.28 inches, fairly beg for the touch of a hand, a foot, a body cupped in its taut blades. A single step from your bare sole reveals its springy, yet prickled self. The scent of the moment, the earthy, fresh aroma surrounds you as you move into the field. It tickles your soul and your feet as you walk to the center. You sit, then lie back; you close your eyes and feel. Yes, there is something to be said for this moment.