My girlfriend and I recently became owners of a small duplex in Rosemont. (A miracle, yes, I know.) We moved in the winter, so we didn’t have to worry about the land. We are on a street corner, so this land extends in front of the house and to the side.
Casually, that’s a lot of land.
Where we lived before, the typical landscaping was an alley with a few abandoned flower boxes, ragweed, prickly balls that stick to the bottom of pants, and large, soft leaves overrun with aphids.
Here, when spring arrived, we discovered the superb perennials around the house. It grew everywhere, without us doing anything, and that’s good since we don’t know how to do anything. We’re crossing our fingers that the perennials will stay alive for a long time and make the neighborhood believe that we are landscaping experts.
But there is also grass. Lots of grass. My girlfriend and I watched it grow, hidden inside behind the curtains.
My girlfriend whispered, “It’s good for the bees, isn’t it?” “. I added with a “It’s good for the planet, right?” » just as little assumed. Because we have grass, but also neighbors. People who seem to have a lot of time to take care of their land. Bees are all well and good, but there is also social pressure. We don’t want to seem like the new disgusting neighbors, who first don’t maintain their land, then leave construction debris and car wrecks lying around, then end up burying corpses there altogether. .
And so the grass grows and grows, and we discover that the little curse does not stop at the maximum height provided by the district which, in Rosemont, is still 30 cm. (Section I, article 4 of the Cleanliness Regulations. Yes, turf is regulated by the authorities.)
Encouraged by the raised eyebrows and grimaces of passers-by, but also because we refuse to live like outlaws, to become the Bonnie and Clyde of the lawn, we decide to tackle the problem. The task is not insurmountable; it is still not the gardens of the Palace of Versailles.
For equipment, we have a pair of scissors and a cheap brush cutter that makes funny noises. After a first test, we found that it would not work. We need heavy artillery. We go to the hardware store and return, like glorious conquerors, armed with a lawnmower and an extension cord. Because yes, life is like that: a corded mower only comes with two feet of cord.
My girlfriend mowed the lawn while I pulled out something here (is it a weed?), picked up an old cup from Tim’s there. I thought we were going to kill this machine by sending it rolling into knee-high grass, but it put us back at 5 cm. A true miracle. Above the noise of the lawn mower, we could almost hear the neighbors’ sighs of relief and applause.
And because we did this on a sunny Saturday, the part of the lawn most exposed to the sun burned within a few hours. We took a moment to admire our beautiful charred lawn, conforming to the regulations, conforming to the social pressure of perfect pitches all around, and a question came to our lips: grass, what is it for?
Why don’t we let nature reclaim its rights over our land, which, in front of the houses, is of absolutely no use? Why don’t we encourage those who have the time to maintain it to grow herbs, fruits and vegetables there? Useful things?
We look at this lawn and it gradually becomes the symbol of something bigger: the inaction of governments in environmental matters, the conformism of society, which gives in to social pressure to the detriment of food needs.
For the sake of our precious lawn, we should also water it occasionally. But our adaptation to social norms stops there. We are not going to waste a resource that is becoming increasingly scarce for a lawn. Even less are we going to spread chemicals on it so that it wins beauty contests. Let her die!
This lawn makes us want to become anarchists and watch the pollen from certain flowers that grow there, considered weeds, spread across the neighborhood lawns. In 10 years, problem solved: no more grass, nothing but wildflowers. Punk lawns.
We’re not bragging about it too much, but we’re a little impatient for winter to come again.