I own a push mower. It was given to me by my aunt and uncle when we moved into our first home - they had bought it for themselves, but found their lumpy lawn to be very difficult to mow with it). I was happy for the donation to the cause. I say it was given to ME, because I think my husband has used it twice and refuses to use it anymore - or maybe it's that I refuse to LET him use it because I don't want to hear him complain about it. And because I don't want him to give up in frustration and go buy an electric or gas mower.
His father also used it once, complained incessantly and then I told him that he never had to mow my lawn again (I don't believe I asked him to in the first place).
So I mow my lawn. And I love my mower. I don't love it because it does the best job ever or because it is the easiest lawn mower to use (it doesn't, and it's not). I love it because when I use it I feel like I'm doing something good. I'm getting exercise, not using any power, and not making any noise. I hate the noise of lawnmowers now.
There are times when I curse it - like today, when the grass was soaking wet and far too long. But I keep up with it because it's the right thing to do - and because it's the only mower I have. And because I love it. And maybe I feel just a little like I'm saving the world.
It's another one of those unexpected gifts that gives me great pleasure.
Thanks, Auntie M. and Uncle B. And thanks to the large worms who make your lawn too lumpy!