the unbearable weightness of mowing

Keeping a lawn makes me crazy. The time, energy, and money spent on keeping a growing thing from looking like it ever grows. Seed and water and fertilizer and weed killers and weeders and edgers and push mowers and riding mowers and zero-turn riding mowers and treatment companies and lawn care companies and and and.

I *hate* grass lawns. There, I said it!

I want flowers, and herbs, and food!

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But then, see? We bought a house and moved in and it had a beautiful zoysia front lawn. And I want to shrink it: turn most of the front to the left of the walk to a raised bed for flowers and shrubs and maybe some cool looking hot pepper plants…

Originally, I wanted the whole front lawn gone: cherry tree, paved pathways, raised beds, seating… but then that damned zoysia crept into my brain like the insidious runners it puts out to spread into the glorious and luxury green mat.

The side lot? It is mostly clover up front, with some pesky weeds/vines that need to burn. Clover doesn’t demand the attention that grass does, so that helps. Eventually, it will trim down in magnitude as for as the lawn: circle drive, fruit trees, fencing, terraced beds, wide sweeping gravel pathways between the vegetable beds.

 

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The backyard is comparable to the front yard for lawn size, but it nearly all non-grass ground covers/weeds. With the exception of a few flower beds, and eventually a deck against the house, this will remain a grassy area for our dogs.

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I remain mostly unshaken in my #morebedslesslawn #moreflowerslessgrass effort, and would much rather spend the afternoon working a flower bed or tending to the vegetables than I would walking back and forth needlessly cutting the same grass that will be waiting for me again next week.

But then I put up the mower and walk the property and think, “Damn, that is one handsome lawn…”

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