In the beginning there was grass...

I have reached the conclusion that I hate grass.  I'm sure I'm not alone.  I grew up in New York State and there, we did not think about grass too much.  It grew, it was green, you cut it in the summer and did not even have to look at it over the long winters.  We moved to North Carolina almost 25 years ago and that is when my personal battle with my lawn began.

I've decided that between the climate and the soil of this state, you actually have to work to grow grass.  Let me be specific, crab grass grows just fine. Chick-weed - no problem.  In fact, there are lots of low profile green plants with blade shaped leaves that will grow just fine here.  Unfortunately, they are weeds and they are not what's needed.  Any home owner worth his curb side appeal needs to be able to display a well manicured carpet of  tall fescue with nary a weed in sight.

It isn't so much the plants themselves as it is the yearly ritual that is required to keep the desired grass happy and thriving while ruthlessly exterminating any chlorophyll laden interlopers.  The Cooperative Extension that is part of a local university has a calendar of monthly stuff you are supposed to do the maintain your lawn.  Fertilizer, pre-emergent crab grass killer, grub poison, more fertilizer, lime applications and then winter fertilizer, sheesh!  My personal favorite however is coring the lawn.  Here the task is to rent a spike-laden steam roller drum and proceed to roll this thing over the entire lawn thereby creating holes in the lawn that you have spent the last twelve months trying to get to grow. - Really?

The soil here is mostly clay, red clay to be specific.  I don't know if this is the same stuff they make pots, plates and casserole dishes out of but it sure is dense.  When we first moved into our current home, there was still construction going on around the neighborhood.  In summer we were treated to clouds of red clay dust, generated by the trucks that rumbled by, that settled on every horizontal surface.  When it rained, the streets ran red with rivers of clay.  So each spring you are supposed to core the lawn with your spike laden steam roller so your grass roots can expand.

In my view, growing grass here is entirely too much work when the result is a sea of featureless green.  If I'm going to put in the effort to have a yard, then I will at least get colors, contrasts, textures and hopefully some wonderful scents out of the deal.  I've embarked in turning my yard into garden plots with the goal of limiting the grass to that which can be mowed with a weed-whacker.  If you are interested in following along, stay tuned.