A Small History: Lawns

When I was a kid I didn’t know there were yards without lawns. Everyone had a lawn where I grew up, to the point where the word yard is nearly synonymous with the word lawn in my early years. And then of course on roadtrips I was exposed to the wide variety of landscapes that make up American yards. But the lawn reigned supreme in majority, and it continues to do so.

I’m not going to get too much into this right now, but it also begs the question: What’s wrong with natural ground? The way our tastes as humans have evolved over the years is really interesting to me. It seems that a lot of our preferences are entirely irrelevant. Particularly when you trace things back to the beginning, to the why. Lawns are one of these things. 

Established during the 18th century in British gardens as a symbol of the elite, the lawn shifted grass from use in pastures to cutting it down intentionally so that it could not be used in a productive way. [1] This was a major turning point in grass, and it hasn’t taken a turn since. Besides the fact that now everyone feels that lawns are the proper thing, not just people with extra cash to throw into the ground. 

According to the EPA, the average US household uses more water outdoors - mainly for landscape irrigation - than for bathing and washing clothes combined. [2] In a world where an imminent fear of being cut off from clean water is warranted, why are we spending so much of it on these sweeping patches of old-fashioned bragging?

But, yes. I agree that there are positives to lawns. They’re hardy; they hold up well to foot traffic and such (but so does the ground). They’re comfortable (when not itchy) and you can lie around on them. They’re also a nice alternative to dirt when it’s raining or snowing because it doesn’t get as muddy. But do these benefits justify the lawn’s widespread acceptance as a great receptacle of resources?

We let all of our grass die a few years ago, and began a slow and steady xeriscaping journey. Between plants and stones and gravel pathways, it’s just ground - like, packed dirt with sprigs of weeds and volunteer grasses here and there, thick in some parts of the year and requiring a lawn mower and sparse at others.

I admit that at first it looked ugly to me. But then, as we started filling in spaces with tufts of drought-friendly plants, it began to look really pretty. And natural, like the ground. Now when I look outside it makes sense to me that it resembles a forest floor in some places and a patch of dirt in an open field in others. In the same way that it makes sense to me that I look older as I get older, it makes sense to me that the ground looks like the ground.

We are very good at making things complicated, aren’t we?

[1] https://www.gardensillustrated.com/features/the-history-of-lawns

[2] https://www.epa.gov/watersense/outdoors