By Rachel Close
Another bright, summer dawn. A soft breeze wafts through the valley. I mount a mower housed in that gasoline-scented garage. These tasks can seem dull, but for me it becomes meditation. I admire the big sky. I feel the wind whip my face. The sting against my cheeks energizes me in the early mornings. I pull the knob, thrust the choke, and kick the machine into gear. I focus on the pattern, because alignment is key. I keep my mind focused on the trails I make, careful not to zig and zag. Alone for my eight hours with the open sky, I map the sun with my eyes to keep track of time. Relaxation and composure help the day go by, as I try not to focus on meanings. When I’m alone with my mind.
