Guest Rant by Sheera Stern, who gardens in Metuchen, NJ
As fall segues into winter, we are all relieved that the whine of the gas-powered leaf-blower has finally ceased. (By the way, the electric Ryobi is at a lower decibel, but a higher pitch, and possibly even more annoying, like a giant mosquito in a hot room with torn screens.) Who are these people who descend on our neighborhoods all week to make this racket? Certainly not the homeowners.
We call ours a culture of narcissism, and nothing says I am the center of the universe like being too busy to pick up a rake or run our own lawnmower. So Mr. Homeowner calls a service and poof! the lawn is mowed, the leaves disappear, and the “chores” are done. (I’ve actually only known one person for whom raking leaves was a chore, and he had twenty oaks on a third of an acre. Lovely high shade in summer, but a blizzard of leaves in autumn. He raked.)
Mr. Homeowner parks his BMW in the driveway on Friday night and there truly is nothing to be done until Monday morning. He certainly isn’t going to spend any time in his yard over the weekend. The sole purpose of the yard is to conform to an ideal standard of success: it looks neat to people driving by—not a fallen leaf out of place. The experts have handled it.
The experts may not know anything about horticulture, but they know what makes less work. A ride-on mower sized and powered for a golf course makes quick work of a 50 x 100 in-town lot, and you can ride it on and off the truck. Pruning shrubs into a vase shape makes it easier to mulch in the spring and blow leaves in the fall, so everything is pruned into the same shape with the same tool: a gas-powered hedge trimmer.
In my neighborhood every plant has an identical shape, whether it is a rhododendron, a willow, a rose, even, in one case, a Chinese dogwood. The silhouette is smooth but the leaves are ragged where they have been mangled by the saw. Eventually, of course, the shrubs die, whereupon they are replaced by some new victims and the cycle repeats. Over the past ten years I’ve watched as a lovely garden of very old azaleas was massacred and eventually replaced. Among the replacements is an Atlas cedar, destined to spread twenty feet in diameter, planted a snug two feet from the house.
The prime motivators behind this carnage are ignorance and fear. As we move ever farther away from our agrarian roots, not only do we know less as a culture about how the natural world works, but we also have less curiosity and tenacity. Fearful of exposing his ignorance, Mr. Homeowner hires someone who pretends to know more than he does. The results speak for themselves, but he has no aesthetic against which to judge. Since he isn’t planning to spend any time outdoors, he doesn’t really care as long as the homeowners association doesn’t fine him.
Should those of us who garden care about those who don’t? Yes, if it contorts us into ever more defensive postures against the industrialization of gardening. The standard of perfection is a 2-4 D lawn with no fallen leaves in autumn. After escorting a leaf blower out of my yard—very much against his will—I am resigned to fencing in my front yard, although it goes very much against the design. If normal is the roar of leaf blowers, do gardeners have to wear ear and eye protection in the autumn?
Sheera Stern teaches English to speakers of other languages, primarily in the Middle East, online, when the sound of industrial landscaping equipment does not interrupt her classes.
on November 28, 2016 at 10:46 am, in the category Guest Rants.