The Tyranny of Lawns

On my walks around Meeker Park this summer, I found a lot of people cutting the grasses around their cabins. These nice, tidy lawns baffle me. Why would you want to have a cabin in the mountains if you have to re-create your life in the suburbs?

I already have that suburban yard in Boulder—a perfect rectangle of green manicured grass with the right mix of bushes and flowers, all anchored by a few well-placed trees, pruned to the perfect shape. It fits in well with the rest of the neighborhood.

But I much prefer the randomness of nature here at the cabin: trees growing wherever they want, some with lopsided branches; flowers finding the best place to grow, without regard for the best spacing or color combinations; and grasses wantonly growing, sometimes waist high. Somehow it all works perfectly.

From my desk by the window, all summer and into the fall I could look down into the tall grasses and observe the comings and goings of small animals. Chipmunks, ground squirrels and rabbits dig their holes, munch on grasses and use the cover to hide from predators: hawks, coyotes, weasels, bobcats. If you mow down the grasses, you’re exposing them and also losing your own connection to these animals, because they’ll go somewhere else where they are more hidden.

For the past two summers, I’ve battled with nature to regrow this area where the septic system was put in. The first year, I wandered around Meeker Park in the fall, looking for seeds that grew in dry places, then patiently waited for the first snow and went out and scattered the seeds on the dirt. Just a month or so later I looked out to see the juncos happily eating the feast I had put out.

Last year, I thought I got smarter. I decided to focus on just one area, close to the house, and cover the seeds with rich topsoil that I brought up in huge heavy bags. So what happened this spring? Grasses grew everywhere except where I had tried to plant them—a big bare yellow spot among the green grasses.

Last summer when I was in Wisconsin, I noticed that every house and farm had the neatest and tidiest lawns I’ve ever seen, as if it were a state-wide requirement or shared obsession. Wisconsin long ago learned how to control  nature—tearing down most of the woods to create farmland. Maybe there’s still some ancient urge to keep nature at bay and controlled, some fear of it overrunning civilization.

But here in the mountains, in this semi-wild place, what do we have to fear? These days I’m more afraid of the effects of civilization than nature’s wildness. I have more respect for the nature’s intelligence than I do for human judgment. Let nature run its course; it can’t do any more harm than we have to the planet.

 

Comments

[Furry Gnome]

I'm with you. I think that ancient fear of nature is still here. At our last place we left most of the property as a wild meadow. It was wonderful. Now (last week) we've moved into the suburbs, and yes, all the neighbours have perfect spaces of green grass, carefully mowed on the diagonal. It's scary. Not sure what to do yet!

[Brent]

A new book I came across while reading my Wisconsin History newsletter, 'Walking Home Ground: In the Footsteps of Muir, Leopold, and Derleth' by Robert Root

https://www.wisconsinhistory.org/whspress/books/book.asp?book_id=549

[Sally]

I so thoroughly agree! Suburbs don't belong in the mountains. But could these people be keeping the grasses down for fire prevention purposes? After what I have seen this summer/fall it is extremely important to keep the vegetation down around your dwellings. So much of what I notice is that we are mostly conditioned as a humanity to stay within the norm. Don't step outside of the boundaries. But I'm with your line of thinking, we are destroying to much habitat.

[Jennifer Woodhull]

I once watched an astonishing ikebana demonstration by a "black belt" in that art. She counseled her admiring audience to study the way wildflowers and grasses grow in nature, and then do our best to mimic those arrangements. Since then, I've looked at wild plants with a new appreciation. They know what they're doing. We're the ones who don't have a clue.

[Kathy Kaiser]

I just read a post from the local Audubon group about letting leaves stay on our suburban lawns because our local insects need places to live and lay their eggs over the winter. What I try to do here in Boulder is keep a few edges of the yard wild--no planted grass, leaves piled up with pine needles, so nature has some small area to thrive in, while I keep the rest of the yard somewhat neat to keep the neighbors happy.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Sally, good point about keeping the grass cut short immediately around a dwelling for fire prevention. Most of my cabin neighbors mow a much larger area than just right around the cabin. Also, the ground is so rocky (especially around my cabin), the grasses don't grow very high. I think our fire danger comes mostly from the trees, not the grasses, which I know was a problem around Santa Rosa.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Brent, the Robert Root book sounds wonderful. Interestingly, I just discovered August Derleth. I love his descriptions of the Wisconsin prairie.

[Clara]

I really enjoy your blog and the beautiful photos of your area..I was wondering if you have any posts on your cabin...the building of it or floor plan..I am interested in cabins like that as a dream is inside me of owning one someday...anyway thank you for sharing the beauty of Colorado..

[Shoney]

Don't get me started on Wisconsin lawns, I see it every summer. My family---most Wisconsinites take a great deal of pride in their lawn, it is the most visible flag waving to the community---"Hey, no one is slouching here!" To have a messy, long-haired lawn invites gossip, "They don't even mow their lawn!"
Having said this, one of my brothers has a beautiful natural spring/pond just beyond his lawn and it brings so much incredible wildlife to the area. The only thing I appreciate about the shorter grass is that there seem to be less mosquitoes where the lawn is shorter...of course, if I were a bird that would be bad news.