A Response to Food Not Lawns (Upon the Blooming of my Perennials)

We don't have as many evenings at home doing nothing these days, but when we have them, we have settled into an easy routine that I have come to love. We drop our stuff, grab a glass of water and head to the backyard, ducklings in tow.

Once we are outside, I sit for a while, weed for a while, sit barefoot with the ducks in the grass, and feed the ducks and chickens some Comfrey leaves from the garden. Mark gives the chickens water and scraps, helps train his hops upwards, examines their growth. Then we do something glorious. We sit. We sit outside. 

This is the first year we have been able to get perennials to take. We decided to temporarily coop our once free ranging chickens so that they couldn't pull things up and we went for it. We put ads up on Craigslist and Freecycle in order to gather as much as possible locally and as low-cost as possible. We gathered a supply of amazing plants from gardeners in our area, having conversations as we went. We bought amazing plants from a woman who organizes a sale of her own gorgeous perennials in order to support her local animal sanctuary. We got bulbs from a man who gardens as medicine for his mental illness.

When I first heard about Food Not Lawns, I was excited. The idea of doing as much with my resources as possible was appealing to me. My regular readers know that I am also a huge advocate of local, organic, DIY shenanigans. I attempted to learn as much as I could about the movement and I was kind of surprised. The more I researched, the more I started to feel as though I couldn't fully get behind the somewhat divisive message at play.

The idea that lawns are the antithesis of sustainability, the arch-nemesis of the green movement is pretty pervasive among the followers of Food Not Lawns. The broad strokes that lawn-lovers are painted with are pretty unattractive. Almost every home owner I know has a lawn, but almost none of them treat with pesticides or chemical fertilizers.   In fact, many of them are pursuing the best possible options, like harvesting the "weeds" for medicinal or food use, fertilizing with compost, planting native grass varieties, etc.
But it isn't just that. Another issue that I have is economic. In most cities, soil can be unsafe to grow food in and raised beds are required. In Buffalo, a huge issue is lead. The expense of a raised bed is hard to calculate, but friends who have set them up have all said, "There's no way you can do this with a low income". And the movement seems to expect its believers would be home owners. It's a rare land lord who would allow a tenant to tear up a front lawn to grow cabbage. I hate to say it, but sometimes the movement feels like a movement of privilege. Pictures show huge suburban houses framed in swiss chard. Where is the tiny urban garden used for a few key favorites? Isn't that just as critical?

In the picture above we see a few images juxtapose to one another: One is a visually bland lawn. The other is a productive, beautiful garden. But something is missing from both. My backyard is mostly grass. It's a big backyard for a city, but it is small for all we do there. We raise chickens and ducks, source our herbs from our backyard potted garden , grow our own hops for brewing, have fruit bushes and vines for us and the birds, etc. But for the most part, food is not the focus of our lawn. Why? Because PEOPLE are the focus of my backyard. I leave lots of open space to hold barbecues and bonfires, to play with my dog and to let the kids in the neighborhood chase the animals around. I keep a lawn for my chickens and ducks to nibble on.  I leave grass so that I can experience the grounding feeling of laying down on the earth.

And our lawn is not a chemical-laden wasteland. It's bordered with locally sourced perennials, many are native. It is useful for our chickens and ducks. It is fertilized well with safe ingredients. It is our source for many things, but the most important one I can think of is the outdoors. I work in an office and never see the sun except through a window or on my lunch breaks. I live in a city and very rarely see expanses of open fields. I almost never get to go hiking or camping.  My exposure to nature is nothing like that of my ancestors. My yard is the place where I have a tiny plot of earth to enjoy nature. I get to see honey bees explore my rose bushes, I get to enjoy butterflies bouncing through my Yarrow and Lilies, I get to watch the earth progress from season to season in a way I would not otherwise. And I have the space to share this with friends and family, whether they are humans or feather or fur family. In a garden, my ducks can't run around, my dog needs to be locked out, and there's no room to lay in the grass- a spiritual exercise if even I've known one.

To me, this debate is not: chemical wasteland vs. productive food majesty. To me, this debate is: a place for a spiritual pause, connected to the earth vs. an expensive raised bed and a few heads of lettuce. And at the end of the day, I choose the pause. It is not that I do none of my own growing, it is that I can't align myself with the idea that grass (oxygen giving, comfortable grass!) is inherently less good than a garden. My message: Be Outside. If you can appreciate nature, maybe you'll be inclined to take care of it.