Mowing

It’s midsummer, and after a few weeks of warm, humid weather, we’re back in mowing season. In some places, it’s every week.

We keep the area around the house short so we can see what’s moving through, snakes, goannas, and because it helps reduce the risk of grass fire.

The other day, our son offered to mow. Normally it’s me out there, so the help felt like a treat. A quick run-through on the ride-on and off he went.

What struck me wasn’t the finish. It was how he moved through the place.

He drove straight into the patches I usually avoid. The high grass. The messy bits. The debris.

I had started going around them after an earlier snag. Then going around became normal. Eventually, normal became the way.

He carried none of that history.

Fresh eyes aren’t magic. They simply haven’t learned what to avoid.

I’m not immune. I just forgot which rules I made myself.