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Lawn Mowing - Lawn Care
A man mows a lush, green lawn
Slavery was abolished over 160 years ago. That is, unless one owns and personally maintains a sizable lawn.
Every summer, you can watch lawn slaves toiling in residential neighborhoods all over America. The epitome of this occurs in what some call “riding mower country.” You know, those panoramic estates that look like a par three fairway with a starter mansion in the middle.
You know the routine. It's a beautiful weekend morning, sparkling with warmth and sunshine, a great day for swimming, hammocking and watching ice cubes melt in lemonade. Real nice, that is until it's time to "Start your engines!"
One by one, the mechanized scythes roar to life, belching pollution and furthering the cause of adult hearing loss. And as these oversized hair clippers begin grooming the grass, they drag behind them their lawn slaves, like bow-backed sharecroppers pulled by an angry plow team.
Bending, Emptying, Hauling
The luckier slaves get to jiggle their bellies atop riding mowers, which require less physical exertion but far more mental concentration. The really pitiful ones are “baggers.” They repeatedly stop and start, bending, emptying, hauling — all for the master.
And what master is so powerful that it drags grown men and women from their few sunny weekends of leisure into unpaid toil that leaves them reeking of gasoline and pollen-laden sweat? The false god of the finely manicured lawn.
You know, grass, that greenish stuff that grew between the dandelions when you were a kid. That little plant that is really good for only two things, feeding goats and staining your pants.
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And, of course, cutting it is just the beginning. Once the mowers fall silent, the trimmers and blowers cough to life. The gas-powered ones scream like chain saws and start about as well, while the electric jobs keep the neighbors checking their windows for hornets.
And, of course, the grass overlord must be fed and hydrated. Several times each season, the slaves pour back-breaking bags of fertilizer, weed killer and toxic pesticides into little carts and trudge back and forth, repeating some sort of lawn-and-garden mantra like, “Weed and feed, weed and feed.” And, except when the rains are plentiful, they lug around hoses and sprinklers, struggling to achieve that perfect spray pattern that will cover every inch of grass, while much of it ends up on the driveway and sidewalk.
Lawn Care Industry
Why are so many of us beholden to the lawn god?
For one, the lawn care industry tells us, convincingly it seems, that our lawns should be perfect, meaning entirely devoid of so-called weeds and insects. Their version of “perfect” yields a little ecosystem with about as much biodiversity as a parking lot. Maybe less if the lot has plants growing through cracks in the asphalt.
Personally, their toxic crap never lands on my lawn. Not bragging, just like the fact that animals, birds and, yes, insects (I happen to admire them) find our little abode welcoming. Do I pull weeds that pop up? Some if they get too greedy, but I like the biodiversity.
If you consider lawn care a leisure activity, good for you. Just don’t end up like a former neighbor who concluded his all-day Saturday lawn mania by scrubbing his driveway and front walk with soap and water. Now, that guy has a problem, and it ain't dirty concrete.
There are a lot of things people want to be free of these days, like their jobs, social obligations, taxes, allergies, the news and the like. More often than not, one can't just walk away from these forms of bondage. But our lawns, well, they're only grass.
To paraphrase Jack Kerouac, on our deathbed, we won’t be thinking about what a great lawn we had.
