"Winterize your
lawn," the big sign outside the garden store commanded. I've fed it,
watered it, mowed it, raked it and watched a lot of it die anyway. Now I'm
supposed to winterize it? I hope it's too late. Grass lawns have to be the
stupidest thing we've come up with outside of thong swimsuits! We constantly
battle dandelions, Queen Anne's lace, thistle, violets, chicory and clover that
thrive naturally, so we can grow grass that must be nursed through an annual
four-step chemical dependency.
Imagine the conversation
The Creator might have with St. Francis about this:
"Frank you know
all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in the
Midwest? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started
eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any
type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the
long-lasting blossoms attracted butterflies, honey bees and flocks of
songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are
these green rectangles."
"It's the tribes
that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers
'weeds' and went to great extent to kill them and replace them with
grass."
"Grass? But it's
so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees,
only grubs and sod worms. It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these
Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?"
"Apparently so,
Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each
spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the
lawn."
"The spring
rains and cool weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the
Suburbanites happy."
"Apparently not,
Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it - sometimes twice a week."
"They cut it? Do
they then bale it like hay?"
"Not exactly,
Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags."
"They bag it?
Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?"
"No, sir. Just
the opposite. They pay to throw it away."
"Now let me get
this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow,
they cut it off and pay to throw it away?"
"Yes, sir."
"These
Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and
turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of
work."
"You aren't
going believe this Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out
hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to
get rid of it."
"What nonsense!
At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I
do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and
shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural
blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as
they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of
life."
"You better sit
down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves
fall, they rake them into great piles and have them hauled away."
"No! What do
they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and keep the soil
moist and loose?"
"After throwing
away your leaves, they go out and buy something they call mulch. They haul it
home and spread it around in place of the leaves."
"And where do
they get this mulch?"
"They cut down
trees and grind them up."
"Enough! I don't
want to think about this anymore. Saint Catherine, you're in charge of the
arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?"
"Dumb and
Dumber, Lord. It's a real stupid movie about..."
"Never mind I
think I just heard the whole story."