You’re planting grass?

This is another question that we hear a lot of.  It’s a very understandable question.  For the last 5 years we have made a very deliberate effort to eliminate grass from our lives.  It was a liberating day when I gave our push mower to my brother knowing that the traditional reel mower we bought would easily handle the postage stamp of grass we had left.  Virtually no mowing, no wasting water on grass and food plants as far as the eye could see.  It was heavenly.  In fact, our aversion to grass has become a standing joke among our friends anytime the topic of mowing comes up.  You could say that it’s become integrated into our image – we are those people who don’t believe in lawns.

There are a lot of other things that go along with having a lawn that we haven’t done in a long time.  Lawns usually involve seeding and getting grass started.  One has to worry about when to mow it the first time – not too soon and not too late.  Then there’s figuring out what kind of grass to plant – should it be the sun mix, the shade mix or the one that supposed to work well everywhere but naturally won’t?  Fescue, bluegrass or the dread Bermuda – what kind of grass will be best.  Preparing ground for grass means breaking it up when you live on clay like we do.  After having a no-till garden for the last 5 years, it feels very strange to contemplate tilling so much of our lot, especially where the bobcat has compacted the soil.  All of this feels like a foreign language to me – I have thought more than once “Does the rest of the world really worry this much about grass?”  Apparently so.

It all feels very hypocritical, really.  I am a staunch advocate for honoring the soil.  Don’t till it.  Don’t poison it.  Don’t just plant one thing – soil thrives on diversity.  Don’t use chemicals of any kind.  Don’t compact the soil – let it breath.  I care about my soil enough to haul all 40 cubic yards of it 20 miles away for goodness sake!  So now I find myself driving heavy equipment over the remaining soil, planning to till it so that it can be raked into a completely unremarkable flat and empty canvas, and coping with the prospect of an incredibly boring field of green grass everywhere.  Monoculture, here I come. 

Beyond that though, I have a sense of letting the community down.  Our garden has become well enough known that people we have never met know about it.  I have had complete strangers come up to me and tell me they’re trying the tomato tunnel or arch.  Jeremy had someone he had never met at work say “That’s your garden?  You’re a hero!”  It feels really good to have inspired so many people to grow food – even if it’s just a little bit.  I will miss getting to meet new people on the Food Garden Tour and introduce them to some new thing they could try.  I will miss seeing the wonder on someone’s face when they see a carrot growing for the first time.  We’ve met so many amazing people because of the garden – I can’t imagine what our lives would be like without those relationships. 

I picture people driving by to see the garden and finding instead a very unimpressive lawn.  The “drive by’s” have been a standard and almost daily occurrence during the growing season for us.  I picture the disappointment on people’s faces.  There are many people who ride their bikes or run on our street so that they can see what’s growing.  They won’t have much to look at this year or in the future.  It feels like we are letting the community down by not sticking to our guns and fighting harder to keep the garden.

Why would we consider such a thing?  How can we live with ourselves after committing this stunning crime against the soil life we have worked so hard to cultivate?  How can we let everyone who has looked at our garden and been inspired down?  I don’t know.  To be honest, it makes me extremely guilty and uneasy every time I think about it.  We have convinced ourselves that there is no other way for us to get to the farm.  We need to sell our house, preferably before the kids go back to school in the fall.  In order to have the finances to build the cottage on the farm so that we have a place to live, we need to not have this mortgage payment.  Getting the house sold in that time frame means making it something that will appeal to the average home buyer.  I think it’s safe to say that the average home buyer is not looking for a prize winning garden that takes up almost every inch of space, including part of the neighbor’s yard.  Sad, but true.  We have had a few people come by to see the house specifically because of the garden but it hasn’t been the right fit for any of them.  One decided the inside of the house didn’t suit them, another decided they really wanted more space in the country.  Our conclusion is that while the right person is probably out there somewhere, it will take a very long time to find them.

There will still be a few clues to this lot’s life with us after we finish the conversion though.  First of all, the soil is still light years better now than when we started.  The greenhouse will remain as a reminder of what was.  It won’t look out on the tomato tunnels, the 10’ corn plants or the chicken coop anymore, but it will still be a greenhouse waiting for someone to grow something inside it.  The cob oven will stay – we’re not crazy enough to move that!  It was fun to build and has been far more fun to share with friends and family over the last 2 years.  I hope that whoever lives here next will enjoy it just as much.  The oldest sweet cherry tree and the plum tree will also stay.  Without a pollinator, I don’t know that they will bear fruit, but they may.  There may yet be food growing here.  Maybe the next owners will decide that the little out of the way corner of the yard by the circle looks like a good spot for a garden.  Then maybe they’ll want a little more and then a little more.  Maybe someone else in Lawrence will decide that grass is a waste of time and will embark on the journey to raise food in the city.  I hope so.  For now, we’ll be planting grass.