Mowing

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

We keep an area around the house short so we can see what’s happening — whether snakes and goannas are about, and because it’s one of the simplest things we can do to reduce grass-fire risk.

The other day our son was here and he was keen to do a mow. Normally it’s me out there, so getting a hand felt like a treat. I gave him a quick run-through on the ride-on and off he went.

Mowing isn’t hard once you find a rhythm, and the result is always oddly satisfying. it changes the feel of the place straight away.

But 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 too-high grass, the messy bits and debris. Areas I’d quietly started going around after an earlier snag or hassle, until my way just became normal, and then became the way.

He didn’t have that history.

No history. No private rules. Just a job to do, and a willingness to go through the awkward bits instead of around them.

It made me notice how habits sneak in. How “the way I do it” slowly becomes “the way it’s done.”

I see the same pattern in business, and it’s usually why I’m brought in. Sometimes things are broken. Other times they’re simply not working as well as they should. Either way, teams can get stuck, and after a while it’s no longer obvious what to do next.

Fresh eyes aren’t magic. They’re just not carrying the history.

And I don’t think I’m immune. I just forget I’ve made my own rules.