Jungles, Lawns, and Last Lectures

It's a jungle out there.

Boy, after the past 36 hours that I've had - that's an understatement.

I'm in a pretty shitty mood.  Need to step back, gain some perspective, make a plan.

They say the corporate world is a jungle, but...academia? 

There are no words.

Truly.

So what can I do...tonight?  While waiting for a friend from graduate school (and her daughter) to arrive from out-of-town?  I'll try to think about other things.

The garden, life, living.

~~~~~

I haven't been so good at reading other blogs lately, I've maybe snatched glimpses of text here and there, but honestly, I just haven't had time.  I don't like that feeling - of having no time - but I'm just in no mood to go into that now.  We all know what that feeling is, and we all know that it sucks.  But - a week (or so?) ago I came across a post at Garden Rant that sent me to a great New Yorker piece titled 'Turf War' (by Elizabeth Kolbert).

(Now, I found all of this a bit embarrassing - because I'm reading the online New Yorker piece - when, in fact, the actual magazine was sitting in a pile of mail on my kitchen counter.  Also, this was the infamous New Yorker issue - 21 July 2008 - with the 'The Politics of Fear' cover - by Barry Blitt.  And might I just say, that I didn't get all of the craziness?  I loved the cover.  Yeah, old news, I know.  But isn't what the New Yorker does best, what we WANT it to do best - is satire?  I'm with 3D on this.)

So, there I go - distracting myself - from what I wanted to ramble on foolishly about:  turf. 

I like lawns.  But I like them further north - in places where you are compelled to take your shoes off, to go barefoot, places where you look down and you want to just sit, better yet - places where you want to lie down on your back, with your arms spread out and your fingers moving across the tops of the grass, enjoying the coolness, the fragrance.  I spent alot of my childhood doing just that, and I don't think I could deny such a pleasure to future generations.

But that was another life - my Michigan days, or when I visit my parents home in Michigan, where my Dad's back lawn is soft and cool.  I now life in the south, where grass is coarser, more prickly - where fire ants stake their claim to new lands with flags that sting.  I haven't really had a fire ant problem in awhile -- (knock on wood) - but lawns aren't quite as exciting down here along my piece of the coastline.  That being said - I can't imagine not having some of my one acre in lawn.  I like the expanse of it - I like the option of playing croquet...or of just sitting...I like the cleanliness of a lawn, the simplicity of it - while so much of my garden is a jungle by this time of the summer, the lawn is still under control, quiet, content. 

But...

Down here in coastal South Carolina I have never once fertilized my lawn, or applied pesticides to it.  It isn't a perfect lawn, nor do I wish it to be.

~~~~~ 

In my new 'landscape plan', which has been made official (since my architherapist has now transcribed it onto paper in that architectural way) -- I am reducing the amount of lawn on my .82 acres by about 60%, that is, only 40% of my 'acreage' (God, I wish) will be in lawn.  I'd like to get it down to 20%, and I might try - but that just depends on my mulch budget, which at this moment, looks limited.  Such is life.

However, one area of my lawn is sacred.  For all sorts of reasons - the live oaks are in a circle (which, according to some pagan friends, suggests that it is a holy place) and in the beds surrounding the live oaks - well, this is where I've buried my cats and dogs.  This area is also protected from the sun by light ('dappled') shade provided by the live oaks - so the lawn is pretty decent here. 

Except for (depending on how you look at it):  The Trench of Dan.

The Dan, The Now-No-Longer-New-Yet-Still-Wild Wild Dog, has 'created' (oh, come on, it's art) a lovely trench that was, most likely, a mole trail at one point.  Each day she goes to the trench, digging a bit here, a bit there - and while I know that I could, perhaps even should, tell her no, I simply can't.  For whatever reason, a dog digging a trench in a sacred lawn surrounded by live oaks is just somehow - appropriate.  There is also the observation that dogs and digging is somehow primal, and that there is a joy in 'the dig' that one should simply not crush.  I just can't do it.  So in the middle of my very best area of lawn, there is - and there will likely remain, The Trench of Dan.  Think of it as one of the Great Wonders, or akin to the Grand Canyon.  It's all a matter of perspective, isn't it?

(But again I distract myself.  I wanted to talk about the Kolbert article on turf in the New Yorker.  It's a really good article.  Even if you don't care one bit about turf, you'll probably enjoy it).

~~~~~

I purchased a new lawn mower last week.  Actually, I purchased one, it worked for a few days, then the self-propelled function stopped working (which is why I wanted a new lawn mower in the first place) and I had to go and turn it in for another one exactly like it.  Yes, it's a shiny green John Deere.

For years I've had folks telling me to get a riding lawn mower.  I have no desire to have one - and so for years I've mowed my lawn with a gasoline-powered push mower.  I don't mind it (as long as it is a decent lawn mower), there's a zen thing going on when you mow - and with my new mower, I can walk faster, much faster, than with the old one - so mowing actually isn't something that takes days to do.  I laughed when I came across the Lorrie Otto quote in the article:   

“If they’re so large that you cannot use just a little hand-push lawn mower, then I truly think they are evil,” Otto once said of lawns. “Really evil.”

I think that Lorrie Otto has a point.  Now, my shiny John Deere is most likely not a 'little hand-push lawn mower' like Otto was thinking about - but at least I'm not sitting on my ass (pardon me, like I said earlier, it's been a bad day) when I'm using it.  I'm also not holding a beer in one hand (although, that doesn't sound like a completely terrible idea) and yes, I'm using fossil fuels and yes, there is exhaust and yes - to whatever else.  So yes, there you have it - I'm a mower of lawns.

But there are pleasures in life.  One should not tell their dog to not dig a lovely trench, nor should one tell their child 'no' when they ask to paint their own room.

(Here I go:  Once again, I'm distracted from writing about turf).

~~~~~

Randolph Frederick Pausch passed away today (you can read more about him here).  I was terribly sad to hear about this, knowing that it was inevitable, knowing full well that he was a stranger to me - but also fully aware that I am no longer a stranger to cancer, and how it impacts lives.  (Personally, I'm pretty tired of it all).  It made me think about my Mother - who, although much less publicly, fought her cancer bravely, and lived the last year of her life as fully as she could.  Weeks before my Mother died, she was still saying that 'if she could only feel a bit better, that she would bake a cake for her friend' - a friend battling a terminal lung disease.  During my last visit to Virginia, I baked that cake on behalf of my Mom, and my Father took it to my Mother's friend. 

Although I had heard of Pausch and his 'last lecture', I had not listened to it until today.  Perhaps it was a good day to listen to it - perhaps it wasn't - all I know is that it's important to decide at some point in your life what kind of person you are going to be, and hopefully that will be good - and hopefully that will keep you going when things are difficult.  One hopes such things.  This quote in Pausch's last lecture (you can find the transcript here, or see the video below) really struck a chord with me today:

'Don't bail.  The best of the gold's at the bottom of barrels of crap.'

I needed to hear that today. 

Pausch has left quite a legacy - and as a fellow academician, all I can say is that he is what we should all be - kudos to a life well-lived.

~~~~~

Comments

[Layanee]

I too have been busy enough that reading the blog circuit has been a chore rather than a pleasure. I am glad I took the time to read this one and listen to a good portion of the speech. I will come back for more. Life's little perspectives....thanks!

[Annie in Austin]

First you write the wonderful post about the backbone of live oaks -letting us glimpse the end of your novel- now you show us this lovely jungle and talk about your holy circle of trees and a wonderful non-chemical lawn with a trench in the middle. Thank you so much, Pam.
Would it be too corny to call the trench the Grand Dan-yon?

I manage to read quite a few posts - commenting is harder to fit in. Your new lawn mower looks pretty cool - we had 1/2" from Dolly yesterday - maybe I'll actually have some lawn to mow in a day or two.

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

[CK]

Hang in there--I too was more than ready for this week to end.

Your jungle looks great...an ideal habitat for the fashionista dinosaur.

RE: lawn mowers--my sweetheart (the mower in our family) has been looking into alternatives to the gas-powered mower we currently use and found one that looks pretty cool. http://www.neutonpower.com/

[Kim]

Oh please... please call it the Grand Dan-yon. I love that little phrase that Annie coined!

And I dunno... if The Dan was digging in a place where you didn't want her to, that would be a different story. But this is her place, and she's picked one where she's not digging up any camellias or anything too important or difficult to replace... and I'm with you. It's art. The dog zen art of digging. All good. :)

[Pam]

Layanee, I don't like when things feel this busy. It isn't a good busy - it's a 'life's moving too fast and I'm not liking it' kind of busy. Glad you enoyed Pausch's lecture, it does give one a reason to stop and reflect for a bit.

Annie, how hilarious. I had thought the Grand Dan'yon too - or the Dan Canyon - they both just f-l-o-w so smoothly off the tongue - how could they not be just...perfect? I do hope you get some more rain, and that you grass grows - we're a bit better than last year (quite a bit), but we're still below normal rainfall.

CK, thanks for stopping by, and I'll email you my latest trauma in academia. Ugh. As for the more important stuff: lawn mowers. I've seen those - and tell your lawn mowing spouse to get one so he can tell me how well it works. I want self-propelled too. Right now, I'm just happy with a gas one that actually runs!

Kim, do you think the Grand Dan'yon could become a tourist attraction, and bring in a bit of income to the household? It might attract the same people that go to the mid-west to see that big giant ball of string (and no, I haven't seen it - but if I were near by, I have a feeling I'd go out of my way to do so).