I do not understand the concept of lawn. I’ve spent a fair portion of my life involved in some variety of lawn-care, and I enjoy the smell of fresh cut grass on a summer evening as much as the next guy, but why so much time and effort is spent on something as boring as a yard is beyond me. A yard is essentially green carpet that is outside. And that’s if carpet was eternally getting bigger and more shaggy. I’m sorry, but if my living room carpet rose up around my ankles every three days or so, I’d get rid of it as soon as possible. Who needs that kind of hassle? A yard is a bunch of one kind of plant cut into exactly the same size and it’s just waiting to turn brown, die, take over when your mower breaks, or get chummy with a lot of different plants that you don’t really want growing in front of your house. A yard doesn’t feed you (unless you’re a large herd animal), shelter you, or pick up after itself. It’s only pretty if the sight of green squares makes you very happy inside. Personally, I’ve never been all that crazy about green squares.
In the first college science course I ever had, I was taught that environmental diversity was very, very important. Anything that eradicates the natural diversity of a particular habitat and replaces it with one or two kinds of plant or animal (a.k.a. lawn) was essentially going to bring about the destruction of the planet. I went home and told my parents that lawn-care was against my religious beliefs. They, who knew my science professor as a dear friend from their own days at that college, took me outside and pointed to the area behind the Barn, which is a jungle of willow and maple trees, cattails, ragweed, milkweed, Joe Pye Weed, boneset, tiger lilies, touch-me-not, Queen Anne’s Lace, and other vegetation. “See that?” they said.
“That is our contribution to the environment. Now get to work.”
They didn’t change my mind, but the people who allow you to board for free in between college semesters get to make the rules. I helped them mow the lawn. But early-on in my association with the Random Boy, I told him that if we ever married, and if we ever had a place to live, and if that place to live had a yard, I wasn’t going to lift a finger to sustain it. I was, in fact, going to rip it out and plant flowers, trees, and vegetables there instead.
He thinks I get worked up too easily over things, I think. And, you know, lawns are just for some people. They enjoy lawn-care or at least the results of lawn-care, and they put their lawn to good use, even if that use is simply looking at it fondly. That’s fine: it’s the right of a property owner.
Not for me, friends. Not for me.