Why the Grass Is Greener on the Other Side

The little signs on neighborhood lawns announcing chemical beautification treatments taunt me, reminders that my own grass is trying to make it without performance enhancers.

This is my doing.

Unconvinced that the hundreds of dollars a year we had been spending were doing any particular good, I suspended our lawn service last summer. And I’ve persisted in that stance, despite repeated telephone entreaties to re-up.

The last (and what I hope is final) time I told a guy no, he seemed genuinely puzzled that anyone could be so uncaring.

“What are you doing with your lawn?” he asked.

The answer, which I did not feel obliged to give him, is “nothing.” I have reverted to my previous practice, observed for decades, of a simpler relationship with grass: It grows; I cut it.

Granted, this is contrary to standard practice on Long Island, where chemicals to make grass green (and a wide array of other plants, as well as bugs, dead) are considered essential. So what if, in using them, people are turning the whole place toxic?

Thus I have environmental, as well as economic, principles to stand on.

I also, unfortunately, have some rather bare spots of dirt to stand on, especially in my front yard. (Why is it the grass will happily strive to grow across the sidewalk, without first filling in the yard gaps?) My wife fears an invasion of dandelions from the yard behind (which, in addition to a generally carefree attitude about grass maintenance, displays the same approach for children’s toys, wheelbarrows, discarded furniture and the like).

So my resolve is being tested. Will good triumph over evil? I’m ready to do my part: mow. Grass, the ball’s in your court. Man up.