Is Ritual Ruining the Lawn?

I didn't grow up a witness to much lawn mowing. We rented an apartment and my grandparents were Italian immigrants with a fondness for asphalt. I was always proud to be a concrete city girl, my few experiences with nature being limited to short drives through New Hampshire where I would enjoy the scenery change back to the Boston skyline.

When I purchased my home in Alabama sight unseen, I am not sure what, if anything, I put into thinking about managing the land. I am not sure if I intended to hire people or just let the answers come. Ultimately, I did hire people, and I think my body is still processing the trauma of watching these men take a chainsaw to a rose bush. Needless to say, much has been ruined at the price of ignorance, not malice.

I am in a recovery phase within my vessel and my home; I am nurturing the land. I took a look around and wanted to know what things looked like when they are left alone. A whole tree blooms again this season, minus one branch without sprouts, so that is the one that will be trimmed. If I had been proactive, I would have thinned and trimmed away life that wanted to live, to bloom, to be.

I haven't mowed the lawn. Now it is pockets of daisies, pockets of long purple flowers, spreads of clovers. I see butterflies and other unidentified flying friends, all of whom would not be fed had the mower rolled them over.

And I left the leaves, and under a pocket of dry soil the leaf cover provided moisture for moss underneath to thrive. I watched them form a protective cover on the ground covering the roots from which they grew, clearly depicting the evolution process of the cycle of the tree by season, and its importance to its health. The concrete suffocates and disrupts the roots of the tree, its core, therefore weakening it; the trees in these areas have to work double time to keep their strength.

Meanwhile, I watch neighbors and society spend money and energy to collect these leaves to be discarded in plastic bags. It seems like the most obvious act of nonsense and harm, yet it escapes everyone. In their minds they don't think past: this is how this is done, and if we don't partake, we will look undone, and that isn't an option. Different is not a consideration.

Alabama is experiencing a long-standing drought currently, and there are winds causing red flag warnings for no burning. Yet we have people watering their freshly mowed, foodless lawns. The leaves in this situation provide a protective cover over the ground, creating insulation—cover from the harsh sun, food broken down and processed as needed, moisture created to help the insects, toads, turtles, and more.

So as my neighbors continue to work hard and spend much on their mowed lawns, with their never-ending thirst and replacing seasonal potted plants to be discarded, I look different, and maybe a little undone. But I am watching the nature, and I am seeing mini ecosystems supporting life. And with so much in the world unresolved, here on this land all my beings are supported.

The ground gets to keep its natural blanket of protection and nourishment. The plants get to keep their limbs and show me which they are ready to allow me to discard. The creatures, known and unknown, are supported with fresh mini pools of water I refresh daily.

I will eventually form designated paths for my convenience and the safety of those beneath my feet. Until then, I let my voice vibrate before my feet to alert them. I continue to notice and respond, and we are all happy to be moving along.