I’m a Little Gray About Green

[This article is a reposting of my bi-weekly Santa Barbara column at Edhat.com]

I had a disturbing dream last night. I don’t think it had anything to do with the quart of Baskin & Robbins Chipotle Brickle I scarfed down before bed. I’m made of tougher stuff than that. It was one of those moral dilemma dreams, where you can’t figure out which road to take. More than likely, it was induced by the article I’d read in the L.A. Times the previous week.

What caught my eye was the photo of Jean Orban, a smiling middle-aged suburbanite, laying in her front yard, gently caressing her green lawn. The headline read “Orange County cities review ban on fake grass.” Seems she’s installed fake turf in her front yard and there’s an ordinance against that in her fair city. Not only might she have to remove her greensward, but there is a fine that could be levied.

She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. The city enacted the ban years ago when drought-stricken homeowners were laying down acres of bright green plastic that looked like the icing on a Timothy Leary cupcake. These days, the new faux sod looks more like the real thing. Now, instead of the $300 rebate she has coming from the Orange County Metropolitan Water District for customers who install artificial turf, the taste police in Garden Grove want her and a whole lot of other people to rip the stuff out. So she’s getting lots of publicity and the powers-that-be are starting to reconsider. I’m not sure if I want her to prevail, but as a bureaucrat myself, I enjoy seeing David standing up to Goliath.

My initial reaction was that artificial turf in a garden is an abomination, like the plastic flowers my mom used to twist around the jade plant in our back yard. However, (I can’t believe I’m going to write this next phrase) I was at a landscape trade show a few months ago and have to admit that, at the time, I thought there might be situations where I could use this stuff in a project. But after reading the LA Times article and doing some research, I’m not so sure. I operate on the philosophy that gardens need to be sustainable and there are a lot of gray areas in this patch of green. After all, I’m one of the Garden Wise Guys who co-hosts a sustainable landscaping TV show on Cox 18. I should have THE answer. No such luck. Let’s see if we can work this out.

The arguments AGAINST faux turf:

1) Fake grass is made from crude oil. You’re all aware that we’re in a bit of a bind from our love affair with oil. I have a hard time justifying off-shore drilling to satisfy the need for a plastic lawn.

2) It gets freakin’ hot. On a sunny, 80-degree day the surface can range between 130 and 165 degrees. This, in turn, contributes to the “heat island effect”, making the surrounding environment toastier. Not exactly the place for a backyard picnic or wrestling with the dog. A real grass lawn is about fifty percent cooler. I like that.

3) Plastic doesn’t sequester carbon from the atmosphere – grass does. Based on NASA satellite data, there are about 40 million acres - not square feet, acres - of tended turf in these United States. I’ll wait while that sinks in. This accounts for about 13.2 million pounds of carbon sucked out of the atmosphere every year. That sounds like a strong argument for bigger, greener lawns. However, this benefit is negated by the manufacturing of lawn fertilizer and the greenhouse gas-producing effects of mowing. More on this later.

4) The cost of a faux lawn installation can run from $8 to $15 per square foot (expect a 10-15 year lifespan). Typical quarter acre homes frequently have as much as 3500 s.f. of their landscaping in turf. I can think of better ways to part with fifty grand.

5) It’s made from polyethylene, which is not biodegradable. It can be recycled, but then there’s the energy expenditure to convert it into something else.

6) If it’s not getting watered and there’s not much organic material cycling through the soil, there’s really not much habitat for the flora and fauna that live in the soil. Thinking about refugee camps filled with millions of earthworms throws me into major guilt trips.

The argument FOR faux turf:

1) It doesn’t have to be watered, 2) fertilized, 3) sprayed, or 4) mowed. That saves resources, reduces the amount of chemicals that run off into the creeks and eliminates the exhaust from inefficient gas-powered mowers.

5) No mowing equals no engine noise, hence sleeping later on weekends.

6) If you get a tiny windmill, you can pretend you own a miniature golf course.

That takes me back to the green moral dilemma. How do you calculate the balance? Save water while wasting oil; reduce noise while burning your feet. Arrrrrggggghhhhh!

There are at least two ways around it. One would be giving up your attachment to turf (can we start a 12-step program?) and letting go of that post-WWII suburban icon that has no business existing in our eighteen-inches-of-rain-a-year climate. The definitive work on this is American Green: The Obsessive Quest for the Perfect Lawn by Ted Steinberg.
There are plenty of ideas for attractive, sustainable non-turf front yards out there and the local water districts have many great resources to get your design engine started. I’m a fan of growing something edible anywhere you can, but if that’s not your style, there are still plenty of options.

The other route, for you die-hards, is to reduce the size of your lawn to the bare minimum you need for recreational (not ornamental) reasons and manage it in the most environmentally responsible way.

Consider a drought tolerant variety like Buffalo Grass or Bonsai Fescue, irrigate it with a Smart Controller (they use satellite info to adjust to real-time weather conditions), trade your gas mower for a push mower, and use only organic fertilizers to avoid toxic run-off. You’ll produce less carbon dioxide, save water and work off those love handles.

So maybe my moral dilemma is solved. Take a pass on the plastic, ditch the lawn where possible or care for it in an environmentally responsible way. For more on the wrath of grass, check Susan Harris’s Sustainable Gardening blog.

I close with a bit of trademark Santa Barbara snobbery – the setting for the Times article is the OC. Perhaps we’re safe, since there’s no one up this way who would even consider a petro-lawn, at least not in the South County.

[NOTE: One of my favorite bloggers, Susan Harris, has a post on the same subject at her web site.]

Murder Your Lawn II - What Would Tony Soprano Do?

Looks like that last post stirred folks up a wee bit. There’s some passion attached to that patch of green, but the vast majority of you seemed to be raising your clenched fists up high and shouting “Right on, bro!”

So let’s say you’re ready to, as Tony Soprano would say, “put a hit out” on your turf. First we’ll agree that it has to be done in an environmentally responsible manner. In George’s comment, he wants to know if I want to be his Dr. Kevorkian but worries about harming his Norfolk Island Pine.

Good news. What if you could use zero toxic substances, protect existing trees AND actually increase the health of your soil?

It’s called sheet mulching and it couldn’t be simpler. What you’re doing is converting the turf or weeds into beneficial organic material. Follow these simple steps and start working on the redesign:

1. Mow the grass or weeds, but leave the clipping in place. We want this stuff to decompose.

2. Lightly cover the area with about a half-inch of compost, manure or grass clippings, etc. It will also decompose and add nutrients to the soil.

3. Get your mitts on enough corrugated cardboard to cover the soon-to-be victim. Depending on the size of the impending corpse, you might have to drive down some dark alleys and practice a little dumpster-diving. If cardboard is scarce, you can cover the area with a layer of newspaper about 5 sheets thick. Wet it down to start the decomposition process. We’re almost there, so don’t chicken out.

4. Using the free wood chips you can probably get from a local tree service (Santa Barbarians can get free greenwaste mulch from the County Transfer Station) cover the cardboard with about 5” of mulch. Don't worry about the mass of stuff; it will settle down to a thin layer. If you can’t get chips, any organic material is fair game.

You’re done! If it’s a warm time of the year, some articles say you can just wait a few weeks, cut holes in the layer and plant. A Google search for “sheet mulch” will turn up lots of variation on this theme and the timing, so check it out. For my money, I’d wait at least two months. While your plants start growing, earthworms are moving in, destroying the evidence, humus is building up in the soil, the roots of the old lawn are turning into good stuff and you’ve got yourself a dead lawn. One caution…if there are trees in the area, keep the mulch about a foot away from the actual trunk to avoid rotting the tree's crown with moisture.

Sleep easy. There ain’t a jury in the world gonna convict you for this caper.

So, if your excuse was avoidance of chemicals or the hard work of cutting out the old green monster, sorry. Now raise your fist in the air, gather up the materials and start picking out the new drought-tolerant plants you’ll be planting graveside.

Murder Your Lawn - Now!

How many of you watered your lawn this week? Come on, raise your hands, don’t be shy. Good.

Next question. If the average annual rainfall in Santa Barbara is between 18 and 21 inches, and we only received 6 this year, and a chicken gets on a train in Miami heading north at 60 mph into a 6 mph headwind, how long will it take to water your lawn when the reservoirs go dry?

O.K. I’m ready to rant. That’s not usually my style. I try to gently convince people of my views without putting any guilt trips on them. I’d hate to make anyone feel uncomfortable. I’ve never been a hardcore activist about much of anything—more of a quiet “you have your opinion and I’ll have the right one” manifesto.

But last week’s LA Times article (Public Enemy No. 1, July 5) about the astounding impact of our obsession with lawns has got me cursing out loud about the gardens I see in this town and around the nation.

Would someone PLEASE tell me why there are lawns in front of houses? The kids are in their rooms playing computer games, chatting on AIM, or downloading pirated videos, so don’t tell me it’s about a place for them to play. Lawn in the backyard? Maybe. Into nude sunbathing? Get a chaise lounge. Something for the kids and dog to cavort on? O.K., there’s nothing to completely take the place of a patch of turf, but how many thousand square feet do you really need?

Let me go on record as stating that a lawn that is not used for recreational purposes is an act of environmental arrogance. (Geez, I can sense someone out there feeling uncomfortable—better pull back. NO! I’m going to overcome the “everyone has to like me” urge.) I’m talking about arrogance in the form of a blatant or ignorant disregard for the multiple environmental impacts of growing turf, at least the way the vast majority of people approach it.

Arrogance is the use of toxic pesticides to maintain that perfect suburban carpet. I screamed at my radio this spring when those lovely folks from Scott’s Lawn Care Products unleashed their campaign about protecting our kids from “nasty bugs.” They don’t really define “nasty.” I’m not sure if it’s a Donald Trump “you’re fired!” kinda nasty or “Mature Audience” nasty, but we’d better make sure we indiscriminately kill everything, just to make sure.

Arrogance is having an irrigation system that hasn’t been adjusted for the season, checked out for leaks or had the heads fine-tuned to keep them from soaking the sidewalks.

Arrogance is having your gardener run their inefficient mower that spews 10 times more emissions per minute than a car. Then, since no one is enforcing the local ban on gas-powered blowers, the clippings are blown into the gutter and then on to the creeks. Since most folks don’t really care if the gardener complies with the rules (the faster they mow, hoe and blow the less you have to pay), we have the insult of all that dust and exhaust going airborne with the grating noise as the sound track.

Ya get the idea? Do you really have to have it? Imagine life without a lawn. Imagine a diverse, low water-using palette of texture and color that attracts birds and other fun critters.

Consider taking the pledge. Join a support group for the forlawn (use a pun, go to jail). Be the pioneer on your block. Murder your lawn and set yourself free! Up next - murder without herbicides!

(photo credit - Yvonne Cunnington - http://www.flower-gardening-made-easy.com)

Dinosaurs Get Thirsty Too

Most paleontologists agree that those feathered creatures that flit around our gardens and occasionally compromise visibility through our windshields are descendents of ancient dinosaurs. So I’ll just take it on faith that they’re correct.

With the exception of some neighborhood crows that wake me up, I’m pretty chill with boids in the ‘hood. I’m not a binocular-toting birder, but from a purely functional garden point of view, they’re a bonus. They eat insects--the big raptors will even dispense gophers and other pests. Hurray, I say!

I’m all about having our landscapes appeal to as many senses as possible, so let’s add their color, movement, and songs. So what’s not to like?

My favorite landscape design is lovingly tended by a couple of avid birders. The small garden is a veritable airport terminal for guests who fly in from who knows where. A custom iron “tree” of feeders is dead center off the patio. All forms of hummingbird feeders hang from fences.

But my favorite feature is the custom fountain crafted from an old Maytag washer. The white enameled exterior was crafted into giant flat stair-stepped leaves where water trickles from one to the next. Birds of all sorts alight on the edges of the leaves, take a gulp, splash around in the lower pool, towel off, dust on some talcum powder and off they go. And you can see it from inside the house as well.

The point is (I know, the suspense was killing you) these guys need some help this summer. Santa Barbara had super-low rainfall, so there are fewer natural fresh watering holes. Please do your part. If there’s somewhere in your garden you can provide fresh water (not algae-ridden primordial soup) that would be great. And you don’t have to be in a drought-stricken area to look out for our buddies either. It’s just a good thing to do.

One more thang. Plant diverse gardens with lots of local native plants ‘coz them little dinos gotta eat too!

More info? Check with your local Audobon folks.

Who Needs Water, Anyway?

“Southwest Water Supply Dwindling” was the headline on the morning drivetime NPR story yesterday. You know the drill. Low rainfall, diminished snow pack, too many overdeveloped communities competing for the same Colorado River water. Lake Powell took 17 years to fill and 8 years to lose half of it’s supply. The “bath tub ring” indicating the “full” level is 100 feet higher than the current water level.

And just before I left the house and heard the NPR story, the LA Times was writing about that city’s need to impose stricter conservation measure NOW, not wait until there’s nothing to conserve. Another story discussed the drought on the East Coast, so this isn’t just about the usually arid West.

This isn’t the first low rainfall year, or if it is another real drought, the first of those. Is it global climate change or another natural cycle? In practical terms, does it matter? Maybe if I don't pay attention it will fix itself. And how does this affect our public and private landscapes?

So while this information bounced around my brain on the way to work, I passed 3 commercial gardeners (let’s make that “plant janitors”) hosing down their clients’ sidewalks. As best I could tell, they were using the same water that could be used to drink, cook, irrigate water-wise landscapes, wash ourselves.

Need I pose any solutions? I think we’re all sharp enough to understand that H2O is a precious, limited resource and there are appropriate uses and inappropriate uses. How about acting that way? I’ll save you some reading time and skip the stuff about the right tool for the job (think brooms), tolerance of leaves in the landscape, not using lawn as a decorative frill, etc.

We love our landscapes. But we need to move to a low-impact, low water-using model. How about now instead of after the water police come shut us down?