I mow, therefore I am.
Otherwise, it’s lawn grass oblige.
You see, I hate the thought of mowing more than I actually hate mowing. There’s a certain zen of mowing. I start out with a plan. Then I spend the next hour and a half talking to myself while I walk every inch of my yard, done up in 22-inch strips. I complain some. I grouse. And then there’s that moment.
Anyone who mows his or her own grass knows what I’m talking about. It’s when there’s real progress. When the tough parts have been mowed — that’s my process, to start with the part I don’t like doing first. When you can look back and enjoy the smell of the cut grass.
I did the yard up super great. I went over a couple of areas twice. I used the weed whipper and edged the entire yard. I blew away the clippings.
And when I was done I said, “Ahhhh.”
I solved all the world’s problems when I was mowing. I just forgot what they were. That’s the Zen of Mowing.
