Tenacious as the grass

Why is it the merest crack in the pavement provides root- hold for a valiant shoot of grass, but the yard prefers to send up crab grass, lamb’s quarters, thistle and fern? “Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.” -Zen Proverb

Green things grow, it’s true!

True, we sit quietly on the back porch drinking our coffee, as close to doing nothing as we get. What grows, however, is not necessarily grass. We (or rather, the teenager who lives with us) mow(s) what grows and call it a lawn. The lawn-mower is growing into manhood - designed to grow just as is the grass, I suppose — and we are investigating how to encourage moss to cover more of the area before the chore becomes our legacy. Moss doesn’t require mowing.

Some elevate lawn-mowing to an art; we are not so inclined. Rather, I quite like what Deborah Dale did with her yard in Toronto*. This we could manage quite well, we imagine - but what would the neighbours think?

Whether self-directed or heavenly inspired, spring comes and the grass is “riz.” Nothing beckons bare tootsies the way a dense expanse of fine-bladed, close-mown grass. Nothing whispers, “It’s picnic time!” like a lush, green lawn. “Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow, grow!” - The Talmud

I always wondered why the more we mow, the more the grass seems to rise. Now I know: every blade has its personal life coach dedicated to encouraging it onward and upward! This skyward progress of the greenery is interpreted, in our neighbourhood, more as incitement to hostilities rather than heavenly blessing.

While there are folk who scythe the grass with the weed trimmer just a couple of times a season, those of us in town must constantly marshal every blade into good drill formation. Sometimes this requires some mighty impressive artillery: power mowers, whipper snippers and hedge trimmers. Blue smoke and the reverberation of combustion engines — small but clamorous — fill the air, sometimes twice a week. Every head of grass must bow; the verdure must be regimented to specific height. Forget “whispering”! Maybe the noise is designed to cow the upstarts.

If only those angels could persuade the local drill sergeants to a sneak attack... with, perhaps, a well-oiled, person-powered rotary mower? Or a hand-operated scythe**? * http://www.thismagazine.ca/issues/2008/03/tn_lawncare.php

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www.readingt.readingcities.com/index.php/toronto/comments/12514/ * * http://www.scythesupply.com/articles/WhyUseaScythe.htm