What do you say to a neighbor who walks over to your newly landscaped native yard and tells you that “those weeds belong up north” or “in back where the public doesn’t have to look at that mess”?
“I’m sorry” will suffice. He may assume that you are apologizing for offending his sense of order in the block. He feels secure in his rude judgment of your ideas because he is part of a massive, expanding, thoughtless landscaping amoeba which is destroying the cover of life on our earth.
You are really sorry because the people who mow lawns never seem to be aware of the precipitous drop in the songbird population, or notice the decline in the species of butterflies, or no longer even look for the pale green luna moths which once fluttered around our yard lights. You are sorry, too, that he doesn’t recognize our native wildflowers or where they belong. Surely, those that you are propagating don’t belong “up north” in the boreal forest with bunch berries and bead lilies! Your sunny areas with their prairie flowers and grasses reflect the growth of oak savannahs while the wildflowers in the shade are those of the deciduous forests which once covered our area of the state. You are sorry that he doesn’t share your zeal and responsibility for trying to heal the earth by bringing back some diversity of plant and animal life which was here before we were.
You are sorry that the sound of lawn mowers spoils your luncheon on the porch; that you can’t talk to friends in your yard when the edging machine is grinding along the sidewalk grass as it throws a cloud of dust at you and your guests. You are sorry that the city doesn’t ban the use of leaf blowers. That high-pitched keening wail penetrates the walls of your home. These howling machines create a fierce satanic cacophony of land management sounds. You are sorry that you can’t hear the quiet calls of the returning juncos, or the sounds of rustling leaves. This was your heritage for so many years and now it has been taken from you in the autumn of your life.
However, it is not only the noise which pollutes your territory. The smell of lawn chemicals is added to the abuse of your land. And sometimes you are extremely sorry when those toxic substances distort and destroy the vegetation on your property. You are even more sorry when you know that the pesticides adhering to pollen grains and dust particles float off to harm life in streams and lakes. And these biocides also contribute to non-point pollution. Runoff can be worse from suburbia than from our chemically-saturated farms.
Of course, you are sorry that he is the victim of the tyranny of the tidy mind. When you say that you are sorry, smile. You have all the marbles.
This is an excerpt from the Wild Ones Journal
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Otto, L. (1991). “What do I tell my neighbor?” The Outside Story: Newsletter for Natural Landscapes, 4(5), Sept-Oct. Wild Ones.