112. Turf War

The idea of a keeping a green lawn goes back to medieval times when the lords of the manors kept flocks of sheep on the land close around the castle. The commoners would look upon the landscape as a symbol of status—not for the grass, but for the sheep.  Look where we are now. Or I should say, look where you lawnlubbers are now, all grass and no sheep. I too have no sheep, but on the positive side, not much of a lawn either.

I have made an ethical and practical decision to do as little as possible for the grass around my home. Yeah, it’s laziness, too. I mow it and sometimes dig some dandelions. Period.

When we first moved here, the lawn was a little messy and overgrown, but still in salvageable condition from the previous owner’s care.  This smart little guy I know said, “Gee, looks like you have a lot of work to do here!” This from a boy who grew up in about four consecutive new homes in his little life. He’d seen nothing but whole neighborhoods of newly rolled-out sod, perfect borders and shrubs, all properly irrigated and professionally maintained. I replied with a smile and a shrug, because I knew he wouldn’t understand that grass was a low priority for me.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I haven’t ever given it a go. I do recall many Home Depot carts full of fertilizer and moss control. I’ve aerated and thatched, reseeded and watered. My grandson and I once revived the yard with wheelbarrows of topsoil from a load on the driveway. All for naught, predictably, as the willpower and savvy to keep it up and keep it green just wasn’t there.

With our Pacific Northwest climate, automatic sprinkler systems are not routinely installed, and I've never had one. Come late summer, my greenish grass goes to a nice shade of brown on one side, and to a comfy cushion of deep moss on the other. There should be local appreciation awards for yards with the loveliest shades of brown or mossy green.  And special recognition for the smart saving of water!

There would be stiff competition for those awards, there being many dried-up lawns despite some homeowners’ vain efforts with their bags of lawn patch seed and little sprinklers.  Those guys haven’t necessarily jumped off the wagon as I have. Yes, I am giddy drunk with the art of letting grass wither like it’s supposed to do.  Who am I to go against Mother Nature?

We have the advantage of living in fairly secluded spot—not on a thoroughfare or corner lot. But in the newer homes just a couple of streets away, the residents happily or frantically try to live up to standards of upkeep that would drive me nuts. Yes, a pretty front yard is fine if that’s your thing, but those guys who can’t manage it or afford it face pressure and penalty! If we had moved in there, we would in so much trouble.

Here and there I see front yards where the ungainly grass has been replaced with rockery and mulched beds of ornamental shrubs. Xeriscape, they call it. Nice try folks, looks like more work in the long run than simply mowing the old stubble once a week.

Joyous springtime is a month away. Will I gripe at having to wheel out the ol’ Toro and begin a few months of mowing? Nope. I can bear it until the heat of summer takes over. I'll put out just enough effort to keep things civilized-looking—I'm not a total dropout.

I know, I know. Some of you will congratulate me for being so clever, and others will express pity or scorn. Admittedly not a master groundskeeper, I have other fine qualities.