I am unable to keep a front lawn alive.
On beautiful Sunday, I took the first step at solving this persistent problem, which has followed me to this house on Puddingstone Road from our old place on Davis. Following the soil sampling instructions, I dug up several 4″ cores of soil from various points on our front dirt patch, mixed them evenly, and put them aside to dry. Today I’ll mail a cup of this soil in a zipped plastic bag to the UMass Soil and Plant Tissue Testing Laboratory.
Years ago, Jimmy and I were quite taken by Barbara Damrosch‘s advice on gardening: It’s “very simple, really. You just have to learn to think like a plant.”
But thinking like a lawn? How does one do that? I, lawn-like, drink a lot of water but can barely remember to take my own vitamins. This may be connected to my failure to properly fertilize the lawn as needed.
Perhaps I want my lawn to be neglect-able, and it is very needy. I need to learn to think “needy,” to be high maintenance, which I think a lawn is.
And the thing about grass is that you don’t really need a design. You just plant it, and it becomes big green blank space.
Uncluttered, that’s what a lawn is.
P.S. to my father, a lawn master. Dad, I know what you’re going to say, “Water.” I do. And, in fact, the lawn in the back yard is alive. Why does our front lawn die off — and I do mean die, not just go fallow — every year? Help.