(n.); simultaneous movement of eyes toward or away from one another; c. 1902 in ophthalmology
“Some days I can move the mower slowly, along lazy paths. … On other days, when rain beckons and the grass looks nearly knee-high, I need to scorch green earth. More often, I simply head out to the lawn with the same source of pride that I bring to words.”
–Nick Ripatrazone, “Lines of Light and Dark: On Mowing and Writing”
It might be said, without sounding too pretentious about it, that life consists of constant moments of vergence: the navigation between moving away and coming together, of brief glimpses where two lines of sight fleetingly converge, then move on to cross over some other path. This week, Nick Ripatrazone brings together two seemingly unrelated topics—mowing lawns and writing—and weaves them into a delightful lazy summer afternoon of an essay that strolls through poetry, prose, and personal history.
