The other day I took a ride up to Canada, to visit an old friend. I took a familiar route that I had taken a thousand times in my life. But this time it was different. The trees along the road were all gone, and in their place were bland developments that looked nothing like the cottages and farm houses that are typical in the region. What shook me the most (thinking about what once stood there), was the sight of all the manicured lawns. Each house looked to have bright green, manicured lawns – it didn’t look natural. It didn’t look right. Ever since passing through that zone of cookie cutter architecture with no natural signs of life, I have not been able to get the image out of my head.
Earlier today, I read a passage in the Mother Nature Network, called “Why I’ll never have a lawn again…” I was fascinated to read the account of a woman who ditched lawn-living for a meadow. After learning how to live with a meadow (it comes naturally), she thought back to all of the ridiculous lawns that she had mowed during his lifetime. She thought of the reasons behind the madness, and she thought of the mindset that had been instilled upon her. Each day she looked out onto her new meadow (that she had considered mowing), and found that life existed in and on everything that grew. The meadow was an ecosystem (of course) that would have died the second she took the mower to it.
As I read the post, I thought back to the dead strip that I had come across in Canada. Then I thought about my own neighborhood, and how it was a mix of manicured lawns and mini-meadows. Each day, when I take a walk around various blocks, I find my gaze aways steering towards the plants, the gardens, bamboo, succulents and even tall grasses that offer small creatures protection from an otherwise frightening manmade environment – that’s one side of the street (for the most part). The opposite side mostly consists of lawns, which is when I pick up my pace since there’s not a lot to keep me engaged.
This past year I asked my mother to replant all of the milkweed that had been pulled around her house in years past. I couldn’t believe it when she actually did. While milkweed might not be the most beautiful plant, it is crucial to the survival of the Monarch butterfly. A couple of weeks ago, artist/activist Jenny Kendler came into town with her biodegradable helium-filled balloons. Inside each balloon was milkweed seeds. The environmental project, in tandem with the Albright-Knox art gallery, was intended to repopulate the city with sustenance for the vanishing Monarchs. Hopefully, as more people realize the importance of maintaining indigenous habitats, in the wild and in our own backyards, we will come to grips with the notion that not everything needs to be plucked, pulled and mowed to the ground.
Be sure to read this inspirational story about a gal who is happy that she will never have to mow another lawn as long as she lives.
“I didn’t realize what a dead zone the lawn is until I lived in a meadow.” – Starre Vartan