By “another,” I mean “not a labyrinth.” I love labyrinth meditation. But that’s not what I’m talking about now.

I mowed our lawn tonight. It’s the second time I’ve ever mowed a lawn. It’s more than thirty years since I first asked to mow a lawn (yard work made more money than babysitting in the ’80s where we lived) and was turned down. I’m pleasantly surprised to find it satisfying. This could be the glamor of the honeymoon period, but I suspect lawn-mowing may scratch the same itch that shelving library books does: a moment of objective order and peace.

While I was mowing (and critiquing my form—always optimizing my process!) I considered mowing after dinner versus in the day. For my maiden mowing excursion, My Sweetie and I took advantage of an unseasonably cool Sunday afternoon. Companionable, and certainly the strong light of day helps the work. That day he worked the string trimmer while I drove; today I did both, and nearly ran out of light for the last few feet of trimming.

But even so.

The winding down of the day, the methodical pacing across each portion of yard, the stripes of shortened grass, the need for focus without needing to think. Evening mowing. I might could look forward to that.

Don’t get any ideas!