Do you care about your lawn?

Do you care about your lawn?

It’s out there as I write.

It is beckoning for me to go out to do something with it. hissing at me.

I refuse.

I will not let my lawn be the boss of me.

My lawn is small.  It takes about fifteen minutes to cut it.  I rarely edge it.  My lawn is not a robust carpet of perfect green blades that come together to make a lush green carpet.

My lawn is diversified.  That means it has weeds and crabgrass and has accepted bare dirt patches with which to co-exist.   In the spring the dandelions come up.  I don’t put posion down on my turf, so up they come, proud and yellow and with defiance.  I go out reluctantly to pull most of them, but I rarely chase the root down and rip it out, so that means they come back.  And so do I.  I have heard you could use the leaves to make a salad, and I do see dandelion leaves bundled for sale in the small groceries I go to.  Along with lamb hearts, but I have no lambs, though one could be useful in lawn maintenance.

It’s a little early to put fertilizer down.  I could be putting Preen down around the few landscape plants to keep the weeds from sprouting up there, but I don’t.  They will come too. It’s the cycle of life.

I remember and record album by Joni Mitchell that came out years ago, called, “The Hissing of Summer Lawns”.  I never listened to it.  I couldn’t.  I was sick of grass by then. When I was younger I owned a landscaping and lawn maintenance business.  I cut more lawns in a few years than most people did in a lifetime.

Grass sucks.  More precisely, lawns suck.

Grass, as in prairie grass, is nature’s coat.

The stuff we fuss over is man’s idea of natural.

Man has it wrong.

I don’t care about my lawn.

It’s not the worse on the block but it’s far from the best.  I have come a long way down since the days when I made other people’s lawns look perfect.

My lawn will wait.

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