Mowing the lawn is very satisfying. In thinking back over the years and years of lawnmowing I've done, I realise it is symbolic for me of "place" and "belonging". The way, when you mow the same lawn over and over, you get to know where the dips, the just-buried rocks, the soggy bits, the low branches are. You see the house from a different perspective (and I still remember the time the lawnmower put a stone through the lounge window, when I was very young. It inspired years of checking the front lawn "thoroughly" before mowing). I've mowed with a hand mower, a reel mower - one once that was as tall as me and ten times as powerful, when I worked for Grasslands at the DSIR one summer - a 2-stroke, a 4-stroke and, in London, an electric whiney thing. All of them produced the same fresh-cut grassy aroma that I smell today.

Only quite recently, I learnt that it is better for grass if we don't trim it as short as short can be. Why is this? I've had to break the habit of a lifetime. One of my colleagues said that if you left the grass a bit longer, the Onehunga weed (with it's nasty prickles) doesn't grow well. That's good enough reason for me. Apparently the grass is healthier, too, and grows thicker. This seems like a catch 22 - surely you'd have to mow more often, but in practice, I've found not. I'm no turf expert, that's for sure.

At the moment, the lawn is about all I am succeeding with in my yard. The garden is a tangled wilderness, though it does still produce a series of nice flowers throughout the year. I've never enjoyed gardening, but mowing, now that's something I can manage well.