My sister and I ended many summer afternoons in the 1970s green from our jean knees down, sweaty, and reeking of gas and exhaust. As servants of the Great American Lawn, we regularly mowed ours, the elderly Miss Howard’s next door, and our grandma’s.
It was hard work, but Dad saw physical labor as the best character-builder, so he volunteered us. We received $5 a lawn, to share.
While I didn’t mind the work, Missouri summers were hot and humid, and occasionally I ran over a toad at Miss Howard’s (a horrifying thing). Our family of six kids used our lawn well — for games of tag, pitch and catch, badminton and, as teenagers, for sunbathing.
I learned more about turf at 20, verifying sales for a lawn-care company in Colorado Springs. I telephoned clients, confirming that they had joined our fertilizer/weed killer program, with insecticide and/or fungicide treatments as needed. With our help, their lawns would be the envy of the neighborhood!
During our one-day training, we learned to instruct clients with pets to remove dog and cat bowls before spraying, as there had been pet deaths from tainted water. We also cautioned them to keep pets and people off the grass until the applications dried. It sickened me to realize that the men who drove the trucks and sprayed these toxins daily would inhale them, get them on their clothing, their skin. I wondered why people would pay good money for lawns you wouldn’t want a baby crawling on.
A decade later, as a college grad, mom and hobby gardener, I had my own lawn — or, rather, weed/native grass lot. Seduced by the American ideal, we installed sod. For a while, it looked gorgeous; but without pampering or a sprinkler system, it deteriorated fast. In Colorado, lawns require life support.
So when I became a master gardener, I was determined to get rid of ours. Bit by bit, with a tiny budget and lots of elbow grease, I created a garden instead — with fruit trees, herbs, flowers, native plants, sandstone paths, even a goldfish pond. I kept patches of grass/weeds for our dogs (and the occasional badminton game) and maintain them with my reel mower, enjoying a good workout in the process. Our established garden requires much less maintenance than a lawn. I water once a week, deeply, and I do not water the grass/weeds at all.
I realize that turf is a multibillion- dollar Colorado industry (our biggest cash crop) and many are wedded to the old ways. Lawns, those pretty green carpets, do have an aesthetic charm. But they don’t support butterflies, honeybees, birds, other wildlife, or much of anything else. Caring for one is the antithesis of green. Five percent of all our nation’s air pollution comes from gas-powered lawn mowers. One mower, used for one hour, emits as much pollution as eight new cars, driven at 55 mph for the same time.
According to the EPA, 17 million gallons of fuel, mostly gasoline, are spilled each year while refueling lawn equipment. This is more than the oil spilled by the Exxon Valdez. Fertilizer pollution is a huge problem, and lawns require significant water, yet another burden on our limited resources.
It’s time to see lawns for what they have become, antiquated and wasteful, and to return to our roots: cottage gardens. Gardens assist nature on a meaningful scale, they are excellent outdoor classrooms/playgrounds for children and adults, and they can provide families with locally grown food. You cannot grow luscious plums, pull up sweet carrots, snip chives for your potatoes, pick wildflower bouquets, or provide bird sanctuary or forage for honeybees with a lawn.
As the industrialized world races toward green living, Colorado homeowners can make a difference. It’s easy; take up your shovel and start getting rid of your lawn.
Sandra Knauf (sandra@sandraknauf.com) lives in Colorado Springs and publishes the zine “Greenwoman.”
