'Lawn Guyland,' where the grass is greener
Like it or not, lawns are a big part of Long Island’s identity. Credit: Getty Images/Image Source/Tim Hall
By Thomas Maierthomas.maier@newsday.comAround this time every summer, my lawn turns a bit brown, burned from the sun and lack of water, and I yearn for those splendid times when it was green.
I think of my kids as little tykes jumping over the lawn sprinklers with joy. Or my strolls along public golf courses with long bending fairways and carpetlike greens. Or cheering at soccer fields with thick grass easier on the knees than artificial turf.
Lawns really are a state of mind, often dressed up with fanciful names. For instance, Manhattan’s Central Park has its “Great Lawn,” a peaceful sanctuary away from the city’s taxi horns, speeding cars and looming skyscrapers. My college in the Bronx called its massive lawn a “parade.” And of course, how often have you heard this blessed sod where we live referred to laughingly as “Lawn Guyland?”
In recent years, though, the gentle hissing from lawns has turned into boos from critics and the tick-tick-ticking of a political timebomb.
Viewing your lawn as a political statement may come as a surprise to those who were part of Long Island’s post-war growth, when potato farms were turned into housing developments. Back then, you’d throw down some rye grass on the dirt, spray a little Miracle-Gro on the plants, and hope for some instant greenery. These suburban pioneers, who arrived with their belongings in U-Hauls from Brooklyn and elsewhere, were part of what historians then lauded as “the crabgrass frontier.”
But now, to some historical revisionists, lawns are an expression of raw power, an unnatural mowing over of the Earth’s natural beauty. “A backyard with a big lawn is like a classroom for colonialism and environmental hostility,” contends history professor John Douglas Belshaw, as an example. “What is a lawn but a statement of control over nature?”
These days, there is a divide over lawns just as there is in so much of American life. Each camp has its own horticultural bible, its own creeds and orthodox approaches.
There’s the lawn opponents who believe in rock gardens, moss, clover, herbs, no-mowing ornamental grasses, and even patches of weeds called Creeping Charlie.
And then, there’s the traditionalists who spend a small fortune on their lawns every year as a point of personal pride. Many hire professional services who come by each week and carve off an inch or so of grass. These workers are usually part of a backyard army that includes tree cutters, shrub pruners and curbside edgers.
Today’s biggest challenge to lawns, however, comes from environmentalists. They rightly point out how much water is wasted in irrigating to keep things green. They also oppose the various chemicals spread over lawns to fertilize it and keep weeds away but winds up polluting our waterways and underground drinking supply.
Despite these genuine concerns, surely we can figure out a way to keep our lawns from rotting away. After all, there is still plenty of fresh water in our aquifer — an estimated 90 trillion gallons. Let’s use some of our Yankee ingenuity to come up with ways to keep things vibrantly green in summer, rather than faded brown.
Like it or not, lawns are a big part of Long Island’s identity. Remember the masterpiece of that quintessential Long Islander, Walt Whitman (the poet not the shopping center) is “Leaves of Grass,” not “Mulch Buried in My Backyard”. If we take the necessary steps to find a balance, maybe I won’t become the cranky homeowner who comes out on the front porch and yells, “Hey you, get off my lawn!”
Columnist Thomas Maier's opinions are his own.
