I learned that some lessons come while mowing the yard.

There’s something strangely meditative about mowing the yard. Maybe it’s the repetition. Maybe it’s the hum of the engine. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m literally driving in circles, which feels both ridiculous and oddly profound.

But today, somewhere between the third and fourth loop around the maple tree, I realized something: Most of what I know, I learned in circles. Not straight lines. Not perfect plans. Not neat, magazine-worthy steps.

Circles.

I learned from my mom how to make a home feel warm -not with expensive decor, but with food, softness, and the way she always made space for everyone.

I learned what not to do from people who criticized my taste, my art, my choices.

Those lessons came in circles too. -repeating patterns until I finally stepped out of them.

And recently I learned mirrors are not a good substitute for genuine artwork. They reflect, but they don’t express. They fill space, but they don’t tell a story. They were neutral when I needed neutral. But now I want something that feels like me.

Maybe that’s why mowing feels so right. It’s a reminder that progress doesn’t have to be linear. Sometimes you go around and around until suddenly -the yard is done, the lesson is learned, and you’re ready to move forward. Even if you’re still laughing at yourself for driving in circles.

And that’s what I learned along the way.

Circles in the grass.

Lessons rising with each turn.

Summer hums the truth.