Longing for yard work?

I never in a million years thought I'd ever hear myself say "I'd rather do yard work."

But now that the fall yard chores are over with, I find myself reluctantly shrugging back to the godforsaken gym. Gag me with a spoon.

God, I wish I had a another dozen yards of compost to spread.

Good news, bad news

Stumbled across this piece from U.S. News & World Report. An interesting take on the environmental costs – and benefits – of America's biggest irrigated crop, turf grass.

Bad news: not surprisingly, the chemicals homeowners, companies, schools and municipalities dump onto their lawns are not exactly having a wonderful impact on the environment.

Good news: contrary to the conventional wisdom, burning fossil fuels to tend those lawns is not as bad as you might think; all those millions of acres of turf grass process more CO2 than we produce with our Lawn Boys. Of course that does not help conserve a non-renewable resource like petroleum – but at least it alleviates some of the guilt that goes with trying to make your lawn green in each sense of the word.

Could it be?

When I started this little experiment I never thought I'd be finished composting the yard. 20 yards of compost (at least) later, I have finally spread the last wheelbarrow and sprinkled the last seed. Criminy!

It's like my life was on hold since – every day since Halloween – every spare minute went to composting the godforsaken turf. Now I am finished and it's like I don't know what to do with myself.

So we earn a much-needed winter break.

Good workout, though. I am in better shape after wrestling with 20 yards of compost pretty much on my own. Just in time for Thanksgiving. Let the overeating begin!

One or the other

I need to either a) stop buying cheap Chinese tools or b) stop doing so damned much yard work.

I am leaning towards b).

Salvy, what happened to your lawn?!

After a day spreading compost, the lawn doesn't look much like a lawn. In fact it looks like it's been infected by some fungal disease that converts grass into coal dust.

One day, I took a break from composting chores to join an impromptu gathering of neighbors across the street. Suze asked the question on everybody's mind, in her inimitable Philly Italian style: "Salvy! What happened to your lawn?!"

Less Lawn!

Now you're cooking with gas. Less Lawn is a terrific website devoted to ways to make your lawn smaller.

2010 will be my year for lawn shrinkage.

Interestingly enough, just today I defined the boundary of my new meadow, which I'll be planting with wildflowers in the spring. Got some great info from Applewood Seeds - these guys really know their wildflowers. Very helpful, very fast and they have a wonderful and resourceful catalog.

Check 'em out!

The 2010 plan is to basically let an area of the yard go - no more mowing; accent the native growth with wildflowers from Applewood; and control tree saplings and less desirable species, like Canada thistle.

The Audacity of Hope

White clover. Growing all by its lonesome, without human intervention.

This is good news – though technically it's further evidence of my lawn care company's ineffectiveness. Read on.

I have learned some crazy things during this organic lawn experiment. The strangest – why everybody's lawn had trifolium repens when I was a kid and now almost nobody's does.

For generations, clover was considered a lawn crop. In fact – decades ago, clover seeds were included in lawn grass seed mix. It's attractive. It mows well, it thrives just about everywhere, it stays green in all kinds of conditions – and it's one of those special plants that pulls nitrogen out of the air and puts it into the soil: nature's fertilizer factory.

Then, in the 1950s, the chemical industry started looking for a commercial market for the toxins they developed during WWII. 2,4,D is what started the 'weed & feed' revolution. The Agent Orange of its day, it was developed to kill vegetation on overseas battlegrounds. After the war, the manufacturers saw a huge market opportunity in farming and turfgrass. It was the first known chemical that would kill broadleaf plants (non-grass) and leave the grass pretty much alone.

One problem: it killed clover, a traditional turf crop. Solution: launch a propaganda blitz to convince the turf-growing public that clover is a "weed," to be eradicated along with the dandelions and chickweed. And the steadfast servant started disappearing from American lawns.

Here's the cool part – organic grass farmers like me know it's not a weed. We scoff at the system – we're revolutionaries, crazy enough to actually plant clover in our yards. At $10 a pound, clover seed ain't cheap, but it's germinating on my lawn as I type this (you mix it into your grass seed by the tablespoon, so a little goes a long way.)

Hee hee ... it's just one more way to thumb our collective nose at the agri-chem industry. There's some out there growing wild and – with any luck – there's going to be even more come spring.

Clover. My small protest. My subversion. My audacity of hope.