It's probably not good for the lawn for me to walk on it when it's as dried as it is now. There's nowhere else to walk that isn't worse. The gravel makes noise and gets into my shoes, walking on the dirt raises unpleasant dust, and there just isn't a length of pavement in the yard that's long enough. So I walk on the dried lawn. I can smell it faintly as my feet crush it. It's not an unpleasant smell. My walking path takes me along the jasmine-covered fence, and the scent of dry grass smell mingles with the slight hint of jasmine from the few surviving blossoms. It smells like autumn creeping up on summer. I spend twenty minutes going back and forth and end up nowhere but closer to September. But then I've always been doing that.