It might take a long while to get there, but, believe me, there is gratification the instant I climb off the little tractor and look around at the huge expanse of newly mown green (I want to say "grass"). Like a sailor coming ashore, I stand on wobbling legs for a bit after taking on the west point. There's a lot of time to think during this solitary chore. Seems to me it's a lot like many things in life that might appear daunting at first. You just have to take that first step. Put your head down and get on with it. You might miss a few places and have to go back and do it over; that's okay. It might seem like all you're doing is going in circles and getting nowhere. If you look closely though, there are so many beautiful things along the way. In this case, red clover that draws the bumblebees, blue lupine, the many shades of green, the last purple wisteria on the vines, goats and sheep grazing quietly in the nearby pen, oak leaves dancing in the breeze. Almost without realizing it, you make that last pass and the job is done. That's satisfaction.
There was one last chore before I could shut it down for the day. The mower had to be washed. I'd skipped this the last couple of times I'd mowed and it was in desperate need. I just want to know, because it is so necessary to do, why the manufacturers made it so difficult. Even the heaviest jet stream from the hose will not wash out the accumulated gunk, and it's almost impossible to get my hand into the nooks and crannies to pull it out. Drenched with back spray and kneeling in mud, raising and lowering the blades, I finally got the little tractor ready for bed.
It was a good day.