lawn or when Joey's baseball bounces on it.

Lawns are a wasted space.

We look at lawns, we play and socialize on them, but few people in my neighborhood, cultivate a garden. My postage stamp garden is the only one in the neighborhood! "I should do that," said my neighbor. "Why don't you?" I replied. "Oh, John would have a fit." I suppose John would

Almost all dwellings have one. It is that patch of green we know as our lawn.

When spring arrives, most folks turn to maintaining their lawns. A well maintained lawn is something we admire, get compliments on, and spend a lot of money per year to keep up.

I live in a relatively quiet residential neighborhood, however, my neighbors must listen to the same weather report at the same time. It is like clockwork. Parents pull in their driveways from work, the kids are home from school, and then it begins.

I was sitting on my step, on a cool and sunny day watching three neighbors cutting their grass, another was edging his lawn, across the street, bushes were being trimmed, while another neighbor was blowing grass trimmings off the sidewalk. The commotion and noise pollution was enough to send me over the edge.

Every homeowner was thrilled when the lawnmower was invented. Just pull the cord and you were on your way to cutting the grass vertically, horizontally, or diagonally.

Do you ever wonder why we have lawns?

Everyone knows, lawns, if left unmanaged, grow tall with unsightly weeds, are frowned upon. As a result, we become compelled to tame and domesticate mother nature, when she begins to take over, by mowing.

For most of us, our lawns demarcate our personal territorial space. We defend it with a passion. We often get touchy, when we see the dog, being walked by its owner, easing over toward our green lawn or when Joey's baseball bounces on it.

Lawns are a wasted space.

We look at lawns, we play and socialize on them, but few people in my neighborhood, cultivate a garden. My postage stamp garden is the only one in the neighborhood! "I should do that," said my neighbor. "Why don't you?" I replied. "Oh, John would have a fit." I suppose John would r

me weather report at the same time. It is like clockwork. Parents pull in their driveways from work, the kids are home from school, and then it begins.

I was sitting on my step, on a cool and sunny day watching three neighbors cutting their grass, another was edging his lawn, across the street, bushes were being trimmed, while another neighbor was blowing grass trimmings off the sidewalk. The commotion and noise pollution was enough to send me over the edge.

Every homeowner was thrilled when the lawnmower was invented. Just pull the cord and you were on your way to cutting the grass vertically, horizontally, or diagonally.

Do you ever wonder why we have lawns?

Everyone knows, lawns, if left unmanaged, grow tall with unsightly weeds, are frowned upon. As a result, we become compelled to tame and domesticate mother nature, when she begins to take over, by mowing.

For most of us, our lawns demarcate our personal territorial space. We defend it with a passion. We often get touchy, when we see the dog, being walked by its owner, easing over toward our green lawn or when Joey's baseball bounces on it.

Lawns are a wasted space.

We look at lawns, we play and socialize on them, but few people in my neighborhood, cultivate a garden. My postage stamp garden is the only one in the neighborhood! "I should do that," said my neighbor. "Why don't you?" I replied. "Oh, John would have a fit." I suppose John would

rass trimmings off the sidewalk. The commotion and noise pollution was enough to send me over the edge.

Every homeowner was thrilled when the lawnmower was invented. Just pull the cord and you were on your way to cutting the grass vertically, horizontally, or diagonally.

Do you ever wonder why we have lawns?

Everyone knows, lawns, if left unmanaged, grow tall with unsightly weeds, are frowned upon. As a result, we become compelled to tame and domesticate mother nature, when she begins to take over, by mowing.

For most of us, our lawns demarcate our personal territorial space. We defend it with a passion. We often get touchy, when we see the dog, being walked by its owner, easing over toward our green lawn or when Joey's baseball bounces on it.

Lawns are a wasted space.

We look at lawns, we play and socialize on them, but few people in my neighborhood, cultivate a garden. My postage stamp garden is the only one in the neighborhood! "I should do that," said my neighbor. "Why don't you?" I replied. "Oh, John would have a fit." I suppose John would

d, grow tall with unsightly weeds, are frowned upon. As a result, we become compelled to tame and domesticate mother nature, when she begins to take over, by mowing.

For most of us, our lawns demarcate our personal territorial space. We defend it with a passion. We often get touchy, when we see the dog, being walked by its owner, easing over toward our green lawn or when Joey's baseball bounces on it.

Lawns are a wasted space.

We look at lawns, we play and socialize on them, but few people in my neighborhood, cultivate a garden. My postage stamp garden is the only one in the neighborhood! "I should do that," said my neighbor. "Why don't you?" I replied. "Oh, John would have a fit." I suppose John would

lawn or when Joey's baseball bounces on it.

Lawns are a wasted space.

We look at lawns, we play and socialize on them, but few people in my neighborhood, cultivate a garden. My postage stamp garden is the only one in the neighborhood! "I should do that," said my neighbor. "Why don't you?" I replied. "Oh, John would have a fit." I suppose John would rather admire his lawn, than eat a fresh tomato!

Here is an interesting thought.

Can you imagine the revenue one could earn if lawn space was used to produce crops, for our own use or just to sell? Can you picture Mr. Jones, picking corn in his front yard, or tending to his pumpkin patch, while the kids sold strawberries from a stand?

Folks living in the country have the right concept. Neighbors are spaced far enough apart, crops are grown and sold at roadside stands.

While driving home, I passed a golf course. The grass was beautifully manicured. Golfers were walking on this turf, pulling their carts along, while a crowd followed them to the next hole. No economic purpose here, other than a membership fees to join.

"What a waste of an ecological resource," I thought. That golf course could yield tons of corn for hungry people in the world, but instead, the green acreage was developed for recreational purposes instead.

As I pulled my lawn mower out of the garage, I knew that lawns would be around for ages.

Some traditions are hard to change!