LAWN CARE, OR LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

Not on paper or my laptop of course, but in my head. I roughly organize my thoughts while riding around my large yard and then type them when I come inside. I'm not sure when I will write blog posts when fall comes and the mowing is no longer necessary but that is tomorrow's worry.

            When I lived in the deep woods of Alaska, I wished for lawn. When I lived in the paved city of Massachusetts, I wished for lawn. When I lived in the industrial park of New Hampshire, I wished for lawn. When I lived in the high desert of Montana, I wished for lawn. When I lived in the sweatbox of eastern Texas, I had a bit of lawn. Now I have LAWN. Acres and acres of it.

            When you first look out across the sea of grass, it looks so green and lush and inviting. But if you mow it every week, you know. Here is where the the root sticks up and makes a terrible noise every time the mower blade goes over it, here is where the thorns on the wild rosebush on the verge clutch at you as you pass by, here is where the grass grows so thick you have to narrow your path by half and go over it again to get it all mown down, here is where the dust kicks up because there is not enough grass to cover it, here is where the sticks tend to accumulate and which you always forget to check before you start mowing. And everywhere, interesting weeds mixed in with the grass. That's not really accurate. Interesting grasses mixed in with the weeds more like. Just enough grasses to justify still calling it a lawn, and not a meadow. Not to mention the holes in certain places that cause such a bucking of your mower that you find it necessary to wear a sports bra on mowing day! Darn those moles, armadillos, and skunks. It's not really the critters that cause such havoc, it's your dog trying to dig up the critters that cause the craters in the lawn.

            This week as I mowed and contemplated life, I began to wonder about other people's lawns. All I know of them is the beautiful, rolling grass that I see as I drive up to the house. I just see the surface. But I bet they have some holes, too. I bet they have some weeds, and some roots, and some briars, and some lush spots that require extra tending. I bet branches collect and they have to remind themselves to get those rounded up so they don't damage the mower.

            Maybe sometimes they discover, as I did, that the weeds are really pretty in their own right. Who cares if they're not on the curriculum plan. They're interesting. Leave them. (Same with the 'shrooms, if you're lucky enough to get them.) There is one kind of weed, horrible prickly thing that I dig up and the briars on the rose bush I do try to keep trimmed back so they don't scratch me. The holes I try to fill in occasionally so the mower doesn't fall in and get completely stuck, bogged down by good intentions. And for heaven's sake, get your own dog under control! That will make your job so much easier.

            But just mark where the roots are and mow around them, knowing that they are currently supplying nutrients to something that will supply shade for years to come. And those lush spots? That's where the rain collects when there's a downpour. The growth is enormous in these areas; you may need to do a little extra work shaping and pruning it. You don't need the sticks, it's okay to collect those time-wasters and throw them on the burn pile. You don't have to apologize to anyone for cleaning up your own yard.

Tending a lawn is more work than I thought it would be; it's a long-term commitment, amplified by every drought, every flood event, every windstorm, every stretch of fine weather. Buckle up, it's gonna be a ride. Hold on to your hat! Or better yet, put on your sports bra!