Growing alfalfa, and my cute, little, hippy lawn mower.

Spring! Summer! Green!

 

Oh my gosh it has been so incredibly beautiful. 

And my yard. How I have loved every bit of it. The blossoms, the air, the sun. You couldn't ask for better days. Better smells, a better yard. Better company than the sun, the air, the sky, birds and flowers.

The yard as greened up so much, it makes my heart happy. I love to step on the damp earth, and brush my hands against the alfalfa that has sprung up.

The other day, as I was sitting in the yard, harvesting the sun, and breathing in the delicious perfume of lilacs. As I sat there, still, and content, I contemplated how my unconventional yard and I have some common ground. I thought about how much better I enjoy my yard now that I'm not at odds with it.

Whatever I tried to grow in the ugly places ended up very bare, and worse off than before. What grass I did get to come up usually died, and got mashed.  So many times I had gotten the the grass to come up so nicely, then in the heat of the summer, in our dry desert area, the lovely promise of green got incinerated to a crisp.

 I had tried so many times, I was nearly ready to just give up entirely, and let the ground be ugly, and stickery, and crunchy. And tend to the grass growing in the front yard.

Then last year I did things differently. 

If there was going to be drought, I decided that I better grow something with deep, deep roots. 

 I got this crazy idea as I was cleaning out an old shed, when I found a bucket of flax seed, and a big bucket full of alfalfa seed.

Alfalfa has deep, deep roots.

Ah hah! 

I would plant that, and some super-powered drought resistant grass. I would grow the alfalfa in all the places I usually couldn't get grass to grow, and flax flowers on the edges of the yard, and a 5lb bag of crimson clover.

What would it hurt?

I didn't think that in its barren state it could look any worse. The yard was full of sticker weeds, and I was very weary of getting every pair of socks I owned full of them.

Yet, my alfalfa idea was not totally acceptable to all parties, when I stated my plans.

Bad idea to tell your embryo ideas to the general public before germination. Just start painting your "Sistine Chapel" what ever that means to you, and you'll be better off.

I disregarded the naysayers, and kept on digging, and planting, and watering. My little alfalfa seedlings came up in big sprouting puffy masses. Very tempting to those who liked to eat sprouts.

 I shielded my little alfalfa from consumption, and kept watering them. I was very excited, and happy to tend to them, to keep them alive, as they seemed to be happy to grow.

 Then in the heat of summer, when my little sister got in a car accident, I had to care for her for a while. I was very selfishly worried I that all my efforts to keep even these deep rooted seedlings alive would go down the drain like my other grasses from previous years. But my mom kept them alive while I was gone. I was so, so happy, and very proud that she did that for me as she has a hard time getting around.

But she kept it greener than ever, and my worries were put to rest. 

When I got back, I kept tending to my little alfalfa lawn.

Then something strange happened. One day while watering one bare patch patch of my yard where I had previously had a bunch of chicks, lovely green tall shoots, that looked like corn, began to sprout up, and grow en mass. 

I couldn't figure out what they were. But everyone seemed to think it was corn. I wasn't sure what to think about that.

They had volunteered. And who was I to stop their raised hands as they sprang up from the earth.  I decided to not stop progress, and see what would happen.  I kinda liked the thought of growing a volunteer corn patch in the yard. It would be interesting, at least, rather jungle-like.

As the year progressed, the corn did too. And the funny thing was, after it got about knee high, I realized it was not corn. No. Not corn at all. It was millet from the chicks feed that had sprouted. 

It was wild. And looked really, odd from the road. It was so, so not corn. 

Too late now to do anything about it. 

I was concerned by its wildness, and the fact that it was outgrowing my other seeds. But it was doing its thing.

And I let it. 

The longer it grew, the taller it got. 

It became quite a habitat.

Everyone grew to love its wildness.

The birds, and the butterflies loved it as well. 

A squash sprang up beneath the millet, and alfalfa, grass, red clover, flax and all sorts of wild things grew in the tangle.

 I  made a path through the millet, and hollowed out a little place invisible to anyone so that I would just sit unseen. I would go out there and commune with the millet grass, and be totally enthralled by all the little dramas going on in the wild grass of mine. I loved the little purple flax that bloomed, and all the perfect places for my cats to make tunnels.

I sat out there one day with my watercolor pad, paint, and paper towels determined to paint the cat sleeping in the flax. It was so beautiful, and so lovely. But while I was painting, another cat, came, and rolled all over my watercolor paper, and then shredded my paper towels, then began playing with my paintbrush as I moved it across the paper.

It was quite the scene. 

Instead of painting the cat with watercolors, the cat was the painting itself, meshing its body into my paper, and the art became, pet the cat, and laugh at the futility of painting cross legged on the ground.

I soon gave up. But the millet did not.

At night the wind would blow through it, and it sounded just like the ocean. Beautiful, mysterious, rustling, soothing.  In the autumn, the seeds got hard and dark red. And it fed the birds through the winter.

From the outside, it did look messy. If you were a normal respectable human, with a respectable yard you would look on in puzzlement and think that it was unkempt, wild, untrimmed, and a place weird hobbits, and perhaps hoboes and hippies lived.  Yes. All true.

But as jungle-like as it was. It was so, not boring. 

It was unlike any lawn you'll ever see.

Untamed.

Messy. Yes.

And I loved it. I loved that It was more of a happening, than a making it happen. It seemed happy to grow, and it was nice to just let it be what it wanted, and let it do its thing without telling it what it should be, or to be different than it was.

 The alfalfa, too, just did its thing. All I did was plant, and water, and enjoy it. It had zero schooling to be good little alfalfa, yet it knew how to be itself perfectly, much better than me telling it how to be thus and so.

And though the millet only lasted a season, the alfalfa has sprung up, more established than last year, and doubled in size, knee high in some places. Tall and lovely.

From one perspective, our yard, from the the analytical western chop it down, linear mind-set, and everything must have its proper place view---not the heart view, the first thing you would be is confused. You would notice the strange unevenness of the lawn, the bald spots, the weeds, the peeling fence, the piles of wood from the wood shop, the odd assortment of grass, and alfalfa and strange random plants.

All valid observations. 

But if you stopped the mind, and sat with it, and looked closer, you'd start to notice beautiful things. Instead of seeing, and expecting the typical yard that should be thus and so---If you looked at it like a bit of earth in a woodland, a glen tucked away randomly growing in a moor or a mountain oasis, you'd appreciate it. Applaud it for doing its thing.

You'd notice how beautiful the bees are. How lovely that they come without being asked.

The color purple!

The glass-like wings on all the flying creatures.

The wonder that seeds start from a hard brown pellet, and turn into something lovely to look at.

That dandelions and clover can be friends

That gnomes, and garden fairies follow green lined paths

That beauty is found when the mind stops, and you look at everything with appreciation that it's there, that it's doing its thing perfectly

One awesome thing about the alfalfa is that I don't really have to mow it.

Why mow something down that is so beautiful? Besides I could turn this into some awesome green juice!

So I don't mow the back/side yard. 

And the front lawn, because it is lawn, I do try to mow it. But since I don't think I've ever owned a lawnmower that did not give me grief, and ours should have been put in a nursing home it was so decrepit, and eventually died a long, slow miserable death, in which the mower, and the mowee both were weary of one another---I decided to buy push lawn mower----Last year being the end of the world and all, I decided it was a great excuse to buy one.

My mom was always telling me how awful they were and are.

I did not believe her, and bought one anyway.

And I'm so glad I did. I. Love it!

My sister loved it.

My mom even likes it and brags about it to whoever will listen.

Just mowing some sticker weeds down by my chicken pens.

No smelly gas fumes. No loud engine. No praying that it will start for you. You are the one who's got to start.

No worries about running over something at too high speeds and hurting yourself, or furry creatures. 

Just mind your bare toes and the sharp blades. :)

Simple. A little gadget you push. No gas required, zero oil changes.

 I do have to rake the lawn because sticks get caught in its blades. 

Yes you have to push it. Yes sometimes weeds get stuck in it. Yes there is some energy required. But my decrepit lawnmower of before was so unpleasant, there's no comparison how much I like this push mower. My old lawn mower would only work if I pushed the handles down the whole time, almost to my knees, like some crazy painful yoga exercise. If I straightened my back, the mower would die. And when it did, the chances of me getting it to start were very slim. So and by the time I was done, my hands felt blistered, my back ached, and I was in a nasty mood. 

So yes. This little mower. Simple.

We like simple.

No smelly fumes.

Now loud noise. 

I'm only sad I waited so long to get one.

 I can run outside barefooted, and push it, mow some. Rest, leave it for later. Then my sister will come along, and mow some, and when the neighbors come and visit, they are curious, and mow some too. It's much more of a joy, than a chore, and everyone who wants, mows a bit, and instead of the lawn being an thing to be trimmed, and tamed, it's an interesting, wild, exotic friend. Both the mower and the lawn have their odd little quirks, but that's why you love them.

And mowing is just more of a thing you do for fun, an activity like playing kick ball, or Frisbee.

Me and my hippy lawn mower, it suits me.

Now instead of "I have to mow the lawn," it's more of, hmm it's nice outside. I'm totally mowing the lawn. 

Last year, our front lawn got mowed more times in one month, than we mowed it the entire previous year, just because we had so much fun pushing it around.

So yes. Me and my yard. And my little mower.

How can you love a little gadget so much? 

I don't know. But I do.

This year, where the millet was, I threw out some grass, some clover, and alfalfa. They are springing up, and it gives me pleasure to see the little seeds popping out of the ground. Will they make it through the hot summer? Or will there be a bald patch where the millet once was?

Maybe.

All in all, my yard is wild. And for now, it's green.

All sorts of birds seem to feel it more a habitable place. The hummingbirds come and gather spiderwebs, and little red birds gather the dandelions tufts to line their nests. The other day I watched a cute little raccoon-looking bird finch eat one of my strawberries.

There are nooks and corners where dandelions grow, wild grasses, clover, alfalfa, and marshmallow thrive. The other day I pulled up a pile of marshmallow, and dandelion and brewed a lovely tea from my apothecary backyard.

My yard and me. Some may not appreciate it. Some might laugh. 

But it's the wild parts I like best. The untamed bits that I have let grow, with minimal weeding.

And yes, there are places that are a bit salty, and weedy, and concerning. 

But like my brother in law, who enjoys Permaculture, was telling me the other day, "If there are weeds, it's because the soil is healing itself."

It seemed profound.

They--the weeds are good for the earth. Every weed helps heal the ground in its own unique way.

They are the herbalists of the earth, the weedy witch-doctors of the ground, the weeds, the healers that don't get any credit, yet they do their job, and mostly get poisoned, burned, and pulled up for their self employed, volunteering healing practice without any applause, or credit. No one knows. And most are weeds are hated.

So don't be too hard on your weeds. Love them too.

Make a nice tea. And they will heal you, as they heal the ground.

Sit with the dandelions and watch the birds gather the fuzz for their nests.

Don't be so quick to poison the ground, or demand it be nicely trimmed, and perfect like every other lawn around. Who knows what the ground will grow, what seeds might be waiting to spring up if you let the soil work its magic.

The soil is your friend, and wants to do what it was made to do. It wants to grow things. And if it has a difficult time, maybe your soil just needs some time, and some weeds need to spring up. Maybe you've poisoned your soil too long, trying to get it to grow things it never wanted to grow. Maybe it needs to be left wild, and untrimmed, as a haven for the other wild things that are looking for a safe place, for birds, and jumping spiders, and little millet seeds, and odd mushrooms, and all the things that live, and have been called bad all their life.

If you let it do its thing, the ground will heal you, and itself.

It's much more interesting to let the wild grasses grow, and mow your lawn with a hippy mower with bare toes, and shorts, and a tank top, and a wild ponytail.

You and your soil will be much more at peace with each other.  And the birds will like it. And the weeds will be your friend---lovely weeds, lovey alfalfa, lovey flax, and millet, dandelion tufts, and spiderwebs and all.