Mowing

Mark managed to fix up a tractor and attach a mower for me the morning after we talked.  He pulled up to the Administration Office in an orange Kubota.  "Have fun!" he said.
"Um, could you show me how this works?" I inserted.
Mark: Sure!  Of course.  How many hours of tractor experience do you have?
Me:  [held up hand connecting index and thumb to make a zero]
Mark: Zero!  [face palm] 

I instantly identified tractor parts in hopes to indicating that I had a conceptual understanding of this contraption.  This seemed to alleviate Mark's concerns, so I hopped into the seat and gave it a spin.  We practised in the CTTB field before I drove the back road to my plot.

As much as I'd like to get away from fossil fuels, without animals and the right equipment for them, it's difficult to work large fields without machines.  It took me about four hours to clear five acres.  Granted, I did some likely inefficient weaving through blackberry bushes.  I conceptualized the area like bars of a middle Reimann sum and tried to assess the most expeditious boustrophodonic path. I got the hang of it after 2.5 acres and enjoyed watching the changing light and shadow across the colorful, autumnal mountains.  The excitement of a first mow was soon replaced by a mild anxiety about how much time I had before dusk.  One can't simply speed up the tractor; it can only go so fast and the mower is sensitive to heterogeneous surfaces.  I patiently steered while watching the sun nestle behind silver-grey evening clouds.  I kept thinking I should call it a day and return the tractor.
Oh, but 3 more passes!
Oh, but the sun is setting so quickly!
TIME!!!

I took a deep breath.  Concentrating on the moment, I drove the tractor with calm and with all the appropriate considerations for speed and terrain.  There was no point rushing.  The best I could do was do this task well.  As I finished my last pass, heading southwest, I saw the sun dip behind the mountains.