No blood. They were okay.

The lawn had not been mowed for a little over a week, and it rained a lot, so the grass reached my ankles in some spots. If I had let it go a couple more days it would have turned into a mosquito's oasis.

It was humid and the sky was grey. Felt like more rain coming.

I unleashed the machine: I hopped on the seat, fired her up, and off we went. It's much faster with a riding mower, obviously.

I started to feel rain drops, but luckily I was almost done.

Just a little more grass to cut near the pool...

I opened my pool the week prior and hadn't put the cover in storage yet, so it was in the way. I should have hopped off the mower and moved it, but at this point I was riding at top speed trying to beat the rain.

I thought I cleared it, but no, the mower sucked up the pool cover like an angry vacuum. Loud grinding. I quickly turned it off but it was too late: The new pool cover I bought last year was shredded and one of the mower blades became loose.

I felt a rush of rage ready to overcome me.

In stoic philosophy there's a phrase amor fati that translates to "love of fate". I let the rage flow through me in what seemed like a split second. It's important not to suppress emotion, but I didn't let it overcome me either. I accepted what happened knowing I couldn't go back in time. Beyond acceptance, I embraced what happened.

After investigating the extent of the damage while on my knees in the itchy grass, I turned the mower on. Loud grinding. Broken. I had to finish with the push-mower.

My unfocused eyes gazed down at the push-mower as I guided it up and down the yard, thinking about whether I'd be able to fix the riding mower. Something moved in the grass.

Past my ankles, I saw what looked like grey grass. Upon closer inspection, it was fur. And it was moving. Two baby bunnies were nested in the middle of the yard—and I ran them over.

Thankfully, the wheels were elevated so the blades were higher off the ground. No blood, no carnage. They were okay.

In less than 10 minutes I ruined the pool cover, broke the mower, and almost slaughtered my rabbit neighbors. Relieved that they were okay, I thought more about the broken mower and how I would have to use the push-mower the whole summer.

Unless I fix it...

No point in dwelling on the broken mower. Think positive and move forward. Use your energy on thoughts that create value.

I am content with the broken mower, because it means I have the opportunity to learn how to fix it.

Amor fati. Love your fate.

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Update: Two months later my uncle visited to fix the mower. It was fun. He's moving to Hawaii again, so it was good to see him. Now I know how to fix my mower if it breaks again. And in the midst of having fun and learning, I found inspiration for troubleshooting and maintaining healthy property.

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