“Cold feet, cold feet!” the massage therapist said as I came prancing in off the chilly back lawn. “That’s really good, though,” she said, of my walking barefoot on the grass, soaking up all the minerals and whatnot. “It’s called earthing.”
Now wait. I can just see you, Mr City Slicker, sitting at your particle-board desk in your plastic cubby hole, rolling your eyes at the word “earthing”. But let me tell you, reconnecting with the natural world, which is the mission of The Dutchess, a lovely boutique hotel and working farm outside Rhinecliff, New York, and employer of said masseuse, is a welcome escape from our shrink-wrapped, non-biodegradable lives. Earthing is where it’s at.