Back of the book

Death to lawns

By Soncirey Mitchell
Reader Staff

I have a bone to pick with Louis XIV — and it has to do with the lifeless, homogeneous, herbicide-riddled tracts of land that we call lawns.

The word “lawn” comes from the Old French launde, meaning “wooded district,” which later became the English laund or “glade, pasture.” There is evidence that the British began intentionally keeping meadows and grasslands mowed by scythe or animal in the 12th and 13th centuries as pitches for various sports, such as lawn bowling. Lawns resembling our modern ideas first appeared in the late 1600s to early 1700s, made popular by landscape architect and gardener André Le Nôtre, who designed the gardens at Versailles for, you guessed it, Louis XIV. Le Nôtre referred to his lawns as tapis vert, literally “green carpet.”

From there, gardens all over France began incorporating lawns, and what’s fashionable in France would inevitably become fashionable in Europe, Britain and North America. It is around this time that the cropped “English” lawn became a major status symbol for the aristocracy and gentry, who were the few able to afford the labor and/or animals needed to maintain the grounds.

Even after Edwin Beard Budding invented the lawnmower in 1830, lawns remained a status symbol, and do to this day. Americans have long idealized the “white picket fence,” and now middle-class subdivisions and million-dollar country clubs all include massive slabs of monotonous green monoculture.

Why take it up with the Sun King? Because, thanks to the deeply entrenched love of manicured lawns, the U.S. is full of “biological deserts” that have no natural diversity; glut themselves on water, herbicides and pesticides; and force native pollinators to travel long distances to find food.

The National Science Foundation conducted a yearslong study of residential lawns bordering Phoenix, Baltimore, Minneapolis, Miami, Boston and Los Angeles, revealing in 2018 that lawn maintenance is “contributing to a continental-scale ecological homogenization.” Researchers confirmed that modern lawn culture reduces biodiversity not only by planting the same grasses over and over again, but also by creating environments where the same types of “weeds” — i.e., anything unwanted by the landowner — thrive. One such plant is, of course, the dandelion, which, despite originating in Eurasia, still feeds native pollinators. Too bad that people hate these happy little flowers so much that they risk cancer to kill them.

Still, kids need a soft, green place to play. People need spaces to sit outside in the sun, have a bonfire, stargaze and generally live, so lawns can’t go the way of the dodo entirely. The solution is as simple as it is beautiful, and harkens back to the pre-Versailles days of trimmed meadows: tapestry lawns.

These lawns are durable enough to tolerate foot traffic, yet provide far more ecological benefits and visual interest than old Kentucky bluegrass, because they’re largely comprised of short, flowering groundcovers. Here in the United States Department of Agriculture Zone 6, tapestry lawns can be a mix of sweet-smelling (and drought-resistant) creeping thyme, clover, violets, wild strawberries and Roman chamomile. Each plant provides a stable food source for bees, butterflies and other pollinators, while adding a more whimsical feel to green spaces and lowering summer water bills.

If you want to save money and the environment, rip out your yellow grass this spring and throw down a few bags of clover and wildflowers. Leave the dandelions — they aren’t hurting anyone — and water deeply for a season without using pesticides, herbicides or fertilizer to let everything get established. You will have a better home for it and be a better neighbor to Mother Nature. In other words, “Death to lawns.”