The Lost Files: A Perfect Lawn Depends On Viewpoint

Oct 5, 2009 by winjaw

The Lost Files were weekly columns written back around 2001-2003 while I was running a newspaper in the Midwest. They seem to have disappeared from the Internet, probably after some redesign of the newspaper’s web site. So, from time to time, I’ll report some of my favorites from saved hard copies (that’s paper to you new media types).

In a completely unscientific study, I’ve determined you can tell a lot about a guy by checking out his lawn. And basically, there are three types.

The first is, well, let’s be polite and say meticulous. grass is cross-cut four ways to Sunday, preferably short enough so one can practice their putting. Of course, one never actually does this. Lawns are to look at, not walk upon.

I ran into Group 1 while studying at Oxford, England, one summer. A bunch of us silly Americans grabbed some Frisbees and started a game of Ultimate. I believe we got about three throws in  before some Beefeater type with an 18th century sword/lance came out screaming about damaging the 400-year-old lawn that King Richard or some such notable had planted after winning the Crusades or something.

The second group cares about the yard, but not to a fault. I think they are more interested in not getting shown up by the neighbors. They dutifully cut it once a week, most use a grass catcher and even pull out the weed eater.  It’s OK to walk on the grass, and every now and then you can see a divot from someone who was just out practicing their chip shots.

Then there’s Group 3, which views grass as just another form of weed, and their eyes light up when someone mentions “concrete” and “pave it over” in the same breadth.

My wife informed me I didn’t have to belong to Group 1, but we weren’t even going to bring up the idea of Group 3.

And so it was off to the friendly local lawn and garden center to pick up the 3,428 required and necessary things to keep one’s lawn up to par. Hasn’t anyone ever heard of green spray paint?

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Being the friendly sort, Tony began on fertilizer, mentioning something about 18 percent nitrate, 21 percent sodium and by that time I must have had a “deer in the headlights” look because he took pity on me and pointed to a bag, saying “that’s what everyone uses.”

He then asked about grass seed; how old was the yard, percent of shade on early stages of the equinox verses moisture penetration at dusk and … “Just go with that,” he finally said.

When asked about what type of spreader I used, I nearly walked out the door in complete shame. He politely pointed out one he favored and then pulled out this chart with rows and rows and rows of numbers so I would know the correct something about spreading something and … “Just put the gauge at this number,” he said.

I miss my yard in Juneau. Another year or two and it would have been perfect. With 90 plus inches of rain a year, two things happen to Alaska yards: first, you get to mow about every three weeks and the grass grows to wheat field height and you just as soon use a machete; second, if you don’t get it mulched, you get moss, lots and lots of moss.

To be honest, I preferred the moss and was hoping to convert the entire yard to it. Face it, it’s green, it looks nice and you never, never to mow.

But if you want my honest opinion, I think the Japanese have it all over us. They throw a bunch of sand over everything, toss in one big boulder and two or three smaller ones and call it done. Maintenance involves using a little wooden rake to make cool little designs in the sand. Nuff said.

Until next time.