Green Postures

Woods cover a bit more than four of the five acres (two hectares) on which I live. The remainder (less the coverage by the structures and some bushes) is grass. I do nothing to the grass but cut it: no fertilizers, no sprinklers, no seeds, no weed killers, no chemicals of any kind. Whatever grows there grows there. This isn’t out of any philosophical commitment to a “natural lawn,” which is something of an oxymoron anyway. It is out of indolence. Less than an acre of lawn doesn’t sound like much trouble to mow, and it wouldn’t be were it all level. It isn’t level. Even if my old Wheelhorse tractor-mower happens to be running, which it usually isn’t, it can safely be used on about half of it. The slopes require a hand mower, in some spots pushed along in a mountain goat posture. On muggy 90+ degree (33 C) NJ summer days such as during this past week, an acre is plenty.

back lawn

Both my parents grew up on farms. Both commented to me that they never mowed the lawn when they were kids. None of their neighbors mowed the lawn. Rich people did have lawns in the 1920s and 1930s manicured by hired gardeners. Neither set of my grandparents fell into that category. They left trimming the grass around the house to the sheep, goats, geese, and other grazing animals. In downtown areas (even in small towns) most people either had no lawns or tiny ones that could be cut in minutes with a non-motorized push mower. Lawns and lawn care didn’t become a widespread middle class fetish in the U.S. until after World War 2 with the rapid growth of suburbs: much of it deliberately planned by zoning boards that specified single family homes, lot sizes, and setbacks. Lawn grass is now the third largest crop (if one may call it a crop) in the U.S. covering 63,000 square miles (163,000 square km).
 
It is often said that grass lawns didn’t exist in ancient times. This is not quite true – almost but not quite. Wealthy Romans did create gardens with a mix of grass, ornamental plantings, and statuary; some of these gardens were philanthropically opened to the public as privately managed parks. Grassy areas also were kept for sports and military training. Ancient public buildings in the East and the West sometimes were on landscaped grounds that included grass and plantings tended by gardeners. However, private lawns in the modern sense around private houses were not really a thing. They seem to derive from Medieval feudal estates; the central defensible home or castle was surrounded by grass in order to have a clear view of approaching enemies. Grazing animals did most of the work at first but, as neat lawns increasingly became status symbols as the risk of attack by marauders faded but the desire to out-swank one’s peers increased, humans took over much of the task. By the 18^th century, tended lawns were firmly established status symbols. They were copied by the lesser gentry in the 19^th century as push-reel mechanical mowers made the task of mowing less labor intensive thereby requiring fewer servants. The middle classes followed in turn.
 
Most of the grasses that make up North American lawns (including varieties with deceptive names such as Kentucky bluegrass) are not native to North America. They were imported by early colonists because they were better suited for grazing cows and horses than native grasses. In this role they were and still are beneficial. Whether they do harm in the role of suburban lawns is a question to which the answer varies depending on location and water availability. In wet areas probably not, but in arid regions such as much of the US Southwest sprinkling a lawn is a dubious use at best of a scarce resource.
 
Suburban homes that aped wealthy estates on a small scale (mini-manors surrounded by grassy grounds) were central to a lifestyle to which many aspired after World War 2. It is a lifestyle to which many still aspire though for a variety of reasons it is less fashionable to say so than once was the case. The chore of cutting the lawn is among the smallest of the myriad costs to maintaining the lifestyle.
 
Most of my neighbors employ local lawn care businesses. I’m much too cheap for that. I cut my own grass, trim my own bushes, rake my own leaves, repair my own retaining walls, reset my own walkway slates, and so on. I complain about it but hope to be able to go on complaining about it for some years to come. (Financial considerations make the time projections iffy.) If I’m still here when I’m too old or debilitated to handle the grass, however, maybe I’ll get sheep. I hear they do a good job.

Ellen Greene - Somewhere That’s Green
(from Little Shop of Horrors)