Grass is ubiquitous enough to symbolize nature itself: “go outside and touch grass.” It may come as a surprise that verdant grassy lawns in which the suburbs around WCHS are nested are anything but natural. Each of the little boxes made of ticky-tacky has one to itself, but they represent an old boast that has lost its way.
Back in feudal Europe, well-kept lawns were luxurious. A lawn is a well-maintained patch of land for show. Before lawnmowers, it would have been quite the status symbol: a side stretch of almost entirely useless land. A lovely heath or woodland is tediously cleared away and cared for not to grow food but to show off. Because it was inaccessible and extravagant, it became sought after. Europeans brought it along as they colonized sundry strands. Kentucky bluegrass, for example, is particularly widespread, taking up more space than several major crops. It is native not to Kentucky but to parts of Europe and Asia.
Today, their maintenance is less tedious and thus less impressive. In drier regions, a staggering amount of water is used up sprinkling lawns; it accounts for a third of residential water use at a time when climate change is threatening steady access to water. Here, it is only simple, repetitive mowing, though some still elect to sprinkle. It is not quite so wasteful, but for what?
In the United States, lawns have become a symbol of suburbia. The flat fields around a school have a purpose, sports, and the rest do not. Houses have to have a lawn. So will the shadowy cabals known as Homeowners’ Associations, whose roots run, ironically, not much deeper than that of their beloved grass. In general, they are no longer as racist as what students may remember from history class, but when it comes to lawn maintenance, they remain reactionary. More democratic local governments sometimes regulate lawns too, with less draconian fines. Either way, it is a shocking enforcement of conformity, but public support can change regulations.
Just as the little houses on the hillside all look just the same, lawns are bland. That is becoming a problem. It is subjectively nice to see an even lawn with xeroxed blades of the same bluegrass stretch on and on, but it hurts biodiversity. The variety in plants and insects goes down as grass spreads; there are fewer butterflies now. Invasive grasses are particularly problematic in the Great Plains, but they have become an issue across the country.
One alternative is to turn lawns into meadows. Growing wildflowers instead of boring old grass has become a bit of a trend. Local grasses and flowers have several benefits over the tidy invasive grass that makes up a lawn. Upkeep is easier; they need much less mowing, irrigation and fertilizing. One experiment even found that diverse meadows give weeds a harder time, especially when meadows are allowed to grow tall, as well as nurturing a richer, more diverse invertebrate community with healthier soil. Lawns, meanwhile, are mown so frequently that they do not grow tall and purposefully lack biodiversity.
Neat, orderly rows of mown grass, assumed to be attractive, need to go. The green carpets and their maintenance are wasteful. Even when accepting that they hold aesthetic appeal, they are a problem. There are replacements. Replace lawns.
