We’ve cut and baled hay three times at my house this year.
Not really.
But we could have, if only our John Deere riding mower was equipped with a baler.
Our yard is big and I can’t, in good conscience, call it a lawn. A mowed meadow might be a better label, because it’s bounded on two sides by beautiful, untended open space that has recolonized our lot with fast-growing wild grasses and alfalfa and other native plants.
And so this time of year is tricky for me as a gardener and a good neighbor — particularly in the good years, when the rain arrives and stays for a while.
I’m a beekeeper. In very early spring, when foraging options are scant, I let the dandelions and pepperweed flower for the pollen and nectar that will tide the bees over until the weather warms and the big bloom occurs.
Wild rabbits are prolific in the neighborhood, sheltering under various sheds and porches. The trio of owls that hunt in the area can only eat so many, so I let the grass grow tall to keep the bunnies grazing in places that are not the vegetable and perennial beds.
This unfenced space also is pastureland for a little flock of chickens, so weed control — beyond good old hand-pulling — is out. And who has time for that when there are Frisbees to be thrown for the dog and fruit trees to be pruned and plans to be made for new planting beds?
We mow, though not often enough to keep people walking past from staring. The deep grass and flowering weeds tell them something about us. I hope it is that we understand this yard is not ours alone.
Dana Coffield: dcoffield@denverpost.com, 303-954-1954 or
