Rethinking Lawns
by Joshua Toft
1.12.24
We, as Americans, are far too obsessed with lawns. The amount of time and money we spend ensuring a perfectly manicured expanse of green carpet is both staggering and shameful. According to recent statistics, the average homeowner will spend over 70 hours a year on lawn care and the lawn care industry (not including the larger landscaping portion) has an estimated value upwards of $50 billion.1 The real issue though, and my impetus for putting these thoughts to writing, is not the time or the money. Certainly, there are better ways to spend both, but at the heart of the problem is the question, “to what end?” We devote all of this effort to “caring” for our green grass seas, yet it is difficult to see it as anything but an exercise in pride and self-aggrandizement. I do not mean to say that we should tear up every square inch of Kentucky Bluegrass (which despite its name is not native to Kentucky or even North America) in our yards, rather, I believe we have an obligation to care for the land entrusted to us in such a way as to promote health, beauty, and community.
Before I consider its problems and potential solutions, a brief history of the lawn is necessary to understand how we have gotten to this point. Until the 18th century, the idea of the lawn as a carefully maintained and manicured aspect of the landscape was essentially unknown. Throughout the Middle Ages towns and villages would likely have had various forms of common areas whether for entertainment purposes or for landless peasant farmers to use to help feed their families. You would be hard pressed to find anything resembling the lawns we know today, and almost certainly would not have found them on every single plot of land. Our idea of lawns was likely first implemented at the Palace of Versailles in the mid-17th century where a small lawn, or tapis vert (green carpet) was installed as part of the larger garden landscape. This trend spread into England and the lawn steadily grew in size over the next century or two. For most of its history then, the lawn was a symbol of wealth and opulence in both America and abroad. The ability to devote large tracts of land to unproductive lawn which required extensive labor costs was simply not feasible by any but the wealthy. Even in America, where land is far more readily available than France or England, the lawn continued to be a symbol of the elite into the early decades of the 20th century. While they may not be limited merely to the wealthy now, lawns remain an important status symbol of the middle class and above because of the time and expense associated with maintaining their appearance.
The devil’s advocate might point out that at the end of the day, each person has the right to choose how they will spend their time, money, and effort. If they choose to do so by maintaining an immaculate lawn, who are we to say otherwise? This may be technically true, but as with so many other situations, having the right to do a thing does not make it the right thing to do. The health and care of the land is our responsibility; it is ours to use and therefore we must not so wantonly abuse it either. The way we care for our land, whether it be an 1/8th of an acre or a hundred acres, has long standing ramifications either positive or negative. Moreover, while it may legally belong to us for a time, it will eventually pass to another’s care. Because of this, we have an obligation to use the land which has been entrusted to us for the greater good. Furthermore, we ought to promote the value of life and beauty not only in our families or churches or communities, but in our land too; something which traditional lawns simply are not capable of doing.
While the lush green of a well-kept lawn may appear to be an image of life and vitality, in all important functions it is hardly more than an ecological void with some superficial set dressing to make it seem alive. If we look at nature, the forests, plains, deserts, mountain ranges, etc., we realize any environment which is truly thriving is a complex web of plant, animal, and fungal life. Rather than a monolithic covering of Kentucky bluegrass, there is an intricate balance of various grasses, flowers, shrubs, and trees and microbial life which help provide the habitats for a variety of wildlife from the all-important honeybee to beautiful songbirds and beyond. Instead of forcing each of these to grow where we want (and only where we want), this diversity allows for a lush landscape wherein every piece of the ecological web can carve out the niche it needs to survive and thrive.
To be clear, I am not suggesting we unilaterally turn our lawns over to nature, we simply need to be honest with ourselves about what a healthy and thriving lawn really looks like and realize almost all of the ones we see around us are not that. If we truly desire to make a better, healthier, and more beautiful world for our families and communities then perhaps we ought to place more weight on how the natural world, without the “aid” of man, is arrayed. Rather than spray our lawns with harmful herbicides or fertilizers, we can instead embrace the naturally occurring diversity and let those dandelions or clover plants grow amidst the grass. Not only does it prevent the accumulation of harmful compounds in the soil and groundwater, but it also provides a bountiful source of food for bees and other crucial pollinators.
Taking it one step further, we can begin to remove areas of lawn that are little used or difficult to manage, and replace them with small native flower beds, herb gardens, or vegetable plots; providing even more benefit as a source of beauty and food. What’s more, with just a little bit of planning, it’s relatively easy to do so in a way that is simple to care for and requires little to no weeding and neither herbicides nor synthetic fertilizers. All of this may appear merely token environmentalism, but as with nearly all large-scale change, it’s the incremental developments by many, not the herculean efforts of a few, which ultimately shift the scales. Rethinking the way we care for our lawns is not just about the health of the soil or the food we might grow for ourselves though, it is just as much about creating beautiful spaces for rest, enjoyment, and contemplation.
Thanks in part to the work of advocates such as Wendell Berry or Joel Salatin, Americans are beginning to understand the dangers of commercial agriculture on themselves and the land while also placing a far greater emphasis on the importance of local agricultural systems. However, while we may be more ready to accept the need for healthier food, I think we still have a long way to go towards realizing the need for beautiful spaces. Their benefit may not be as tangible, but that does not diminish their importance. Perhaps luckily, the homogeneity of the modern lawn provides a perfect canvas on which to begin crafting more beautiful spaces for our families, neighbors, and communities. When I travel around Cincinnati, or anywhere else for that matter, and see plot after plot of near empty lawns, sparsely populated with a tree here and there or a few meticulously planted flowers near the front porch, it’s hard to call any of them beautiful. They may be clean, neat, organized, etc., but never truly beautiful. Nothing about these places holds my attention or invites me to look deeper. Alternatively, whenever I’m reminded of the English cottage gardens I’ve seen, or pass by a home full of flowers, trees, vegetable plots, or kitchen herb gardens, I cannot help but see beauty and want to explore further. These places may not be as seemingly clean, neat, or organized as an American lawn, but they are not merely chaos either. They are a careful balance of order with chaos, contrast with complementarity, even life with death. It is within this complexity that its beauty exists, wonder is ignited, and rest, enjoyment, and contemplation find a common friend. Moreover, the caretakers of these places have made their yards and lawns beautiful, not by eliminating the lawn, but rather by using it as a tool to serve a higher beauty.
Herein lies the practical crux of what it means to begin “rethinking lawns;” rather than viewing them as the primary subject, to which everything else is merely a supporting element, we ought to reverse this layout so that the lawn starts to serve as the canvas and helps highlight or distinguish the rest of the landscape. This would allow for a more beautiful, healthy, and productive use of land as well-kept grass gives way to native wildflowers, vegetables, herbs, and trees. We can also then incorporate a more deliberate use of the lawn as a common area for families or communities to play or entertain within. However, keeping the lawn as a common area in this way does carry with it an obligation of regular use. It cannot be solely set aside in hope or anticipation of common use. Ideally it would already act as such and would simply be kept from more deliberately productive purposes to maintain its existing role. A transformation of this kind is not immediate nor even cheap, but by spending more of our time and money towards this goal instead of maintaining our lawns; we can gradually incorporate more and more healthy and beautiful elements with each passing year, we might hope to foster a culture which values the land for the gift it is and cares for it with dignity and respect.
The need to change the culture around us, one heart and mind at a time, is known and accepted. Although only a small component of the larger cultural change necessary, by turning away from the American ideal of the lawn and putting it instead in its proper place, we can better show God our gratitude for the gift of land he has given us and begin to demonstrate our commitment to creating a culture of life and beauty in our families and communities. As we all hopefully strive to make the needed changes to nurture healthy and beautiful places for rest, community, and contemplation; I leave you with the words of Wendell Berry “… the care of the earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and, after all, our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it, and to foster its renewal, is our only legitimate hope.” How will you fulfill this responsibility in your own small way, in your own patch of earth?