Page 123 - ECOlogic Book

apologizing to them for all the butterflies I’d helped my brother chloroform
when I was ten, allowing them to dictate to me which areas to leave natural,
as the killdeer had done. Still, no complaints from Jan.

The big test came when the in-laws came up from Florida for a week. I

imagined that Jan would be embarrassed by such an unconventional and, by
this time, unkempt -looking lawn. I fortified myself with terms like “natural
habitat” and endangered species,” preparing for an elaborate explanation.
That, too, never occurred.

Lawn Sculpting
Emboldened, I began cutting mower-sized paths through the doglegs and
into the green belts, out to the compost heaps and over to the neighbor’s

property, for easy walking access. I started sculpting elegant curves around
the wild areas. Islands that were circles became boring, reminding me of
crop circles in reverse. I tried kidneys and “S” shapes and hearts. Gradually
the weeds filled in the unmowed areas so that they no longer looked like
mistakes. Lovely white, yellow and blue wildflowers bobbled in the breeze.
Thistle and clover and Queen Anne’s lace, chicory and daisies, brown-eyed
Susans and tickseed sunflowers supplied us with continuous cuttings for the
dinner table. We no longer called them weeds. The property looked softer;
friendlier, I thought, and far more interesting than before. The dogs thought
so too, and they began staying outside longer, exploring.

I started to take genuine delight in my art project, quite beyond the mere
power rush of driving the tractor. I was in recovery. I was learning to mow
in moderation, and my ecological virtue returned. I could mow and still feel
like I was doing something for the environment, a compromise to be sure,
but “not a bad one, not bad at all,” I thought. I was undaunted when the
tractor’s tire went flat, pumping it up myself, and when the tractor fell off
the ramp, crunching sickeningly into the shed door. I started to plan for
mowing days with eager anticipation. Now I spent long moments gazing
from upstairs windows, sculpting mentally: let’s see - that one needs a

deeper curve, and a new path over there, yes, a new path - and I could
hardly wait for mowing day. Now mowing was, I confess, one of the Great
Pleasures in my life.

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