Why water the lawn?

lewleadbeater.com

notes from the edge

Home

Email Me

				THE
Latest Column				VIRGINIA GAZETTE
				WILLIAMSBURG, VIRGINIA
Why water the lawn?				May 23, 2007

Now that spring is fully upon us, the chit-chat in the sauna at the Community Center has turned to grass and the cultivation of the perfect lawn.

Marco is upset because now, as a result of water restrictions, he can’t water his lawn every day. Tom replies that, if the county didn’t approve every development that came down the pike, we wouldn’t need water restrictions. Fred chimes in that Marco needs to get a copy of “Lawns for Dummies,” since he’s obviously sown the wrong type of grass seed.

I say nothing. My philosophy of lawndry is framed by the fact that crabgrass, dandelions, buttercups and any other growth that’s green are God’s gifts to lawn mowers. They are the epitome of nature’s eclecticism, and who am I to try to improve on that?

My lawn is replete with clover, chicory and little green-leafed things that put out a delightful, eye-pleasing tiny white flower. When they all die out in the warmth of summer, the crabgrass is there to take over.

The nice thing about crabgrass is that you don’t need to water it. It chugs along regardless of the rain gauge, and so I frequently have the greenest lawn in town all summer. In fact, I heartily recommend that local seed stores stock up on crabgrass seed. You don’t need much to get a crabgrass patch going. Once it starts, it runs all over the place in no time.

You can imagine my embarrassment, then, when I saw in the lobby of the rec center a poster outlining three steps to a perfect lawn.

Step 1 is to test your soil for PH content and nutrients.

Totally unfamiliar with lawnspeak, I have no idea what PH means, though I do know that the whirlpool at the rec center is frequently shut down because the PH is out of whack. I figure that if my lawn has the same type gunk that floats around in the whirlpool, I’d rather not know about it. As for nutrients, I must have oodles of them, since every weed known to botanists thrives in my soil. So I’m not worried about nutrients.

Step 2 really left me aghast, because it is at this point that you’re told to identify your weeds and set up a “line of defense.” As far as I know, the only thing you set up a line of defense against is an enemy. But I find it hard to believe that armed squads of broadleaf dock, mouse ear chickweed, Virginia buttonweed, purslane, yellow nutsedge, spotted spurge and prostrate knotweed are on the march to do me in. George W. Bush, maybe, or Al Qaeda, but prostrate knotweed?

How on earth can you feel inimical toward something called prostrate knotweed? Or spotted spurge? They’ve obviously lost the battle before it begins. Let’s get knotweed off its belly and purge the damned spots from spurge. If I knew what they were, I might even water them.

No. These are not my enemies. To the contrary, in all likelihood they’re my lawn.

As a result, I shall not proceed to Step 3, which is all-out chemical warfare, or finding the “proper weapon” to defend against your enemies. What we’re talking about here are weapons of mass destruction. The kind of stuff we thought Saddam had. Things like 2,4D, which is acetic acid, or MCPP, known as Mecoprop or propionic acid.

There’s no way I’m going to douse my soil with killer acids just because some innocent Virginia buttonweed or yellow nutsedge pops up here and there. And I’m certainly not going to further frustrate the life of my prostrate knotweed.

Let’s face it. We were not meant to have perfect lawns. If Ma Nature wanted us to have perfect lawns, she would have covered her sod with fescue to begin with. Instead, she covers it with dandelions, buttercups, purslane, mouse ear chickweed, broadleaf dock and all those other perfectly wonderful natural growths that we are now to consider our enemies.

As a result of our warfare against nature and her offspring, we are drenching our soil with deadly chemicals that eventually find their way into our rivers and bays. With our automatic sprinklers we waste water like bandits to keep grass green. Just the other day, the sprinklers on a swath of lawn adjacent to the Lightfoot post office were poofing away after a night that brought a half inch of rain to the area. What’s the point?

As far as I’m concerned, we should ban automatic sprinklers and force the water wonks who suffer aortal asphyxiation whenever they see a brown blade to get out there and hold a hose. See how long that lasts.

Water your flowers. Water your vegetable plants. But your lawn? Forget it.

The ultimate solution to overchemicalization and tremendous water waste is the natural meadow lawn so admired by Thomas Jefferson. In honor of one of our better presidents, let us cast our defenses to the wind and let the purslane flourish and the nutsedge thrive.