Kim Jackson

Seeing as how Linn County is the grass seed capital of the world, and grass grows prolifically everywhere you don’t want it, it seems putting in a lawn would be effortless.

I’m here to tell you that is not true.

I have planted my first lawn and I have to say the results are mixed. While it looks better than the weed factory it replaced, it’s not quite as good as some of the golf course-like lawns put in by friends of mine. Now, granted, some people use professional landscapers, but it all looks so effortless I thought, “Hey, I could do that.”

Moron.

First, landscapers have these things called … it’s right on the tip of my tongue … oh yeah: workers. And they seem to do most of the “work” putting in the lawns. Not at my house.

In about a month my backyard will host a  wedding shower for the daughter of one of our best friends, so Julie and I are under the gun to get everything ready, including a new lawn. We had planned to put a yard in several years ago, but seeing no need to rush, we put it off for 10 years. But the shower thing kind of gave us an incentive.

We decided to seed rather than roll sod, a decision I’m beginning to question. While I’m no perfectionist, I am picky enough to grouse about the weeds that have already popped up in what I had hoped would be a pristine patch of grass. I mean, c’mon, it’s a new lawn. At the very least I deserve to look out upon an endless patch of green with no interlopers.

Don’t get me wrong. Over the years, weeds and I have had an understanding: if they stay green, they can stay. From a distance a green lawn is a green lawn, in my opinion. I hesitate to call the space in front of my house a “lawn.” It looks more like we’re the West Coast distributor of dandelion seeds. But were I to kill them all now my yard would look like a moonscape, and hot weather isn’t the greatest time to reseed.

Anyway, the back yard project started with a lot of promise. I killed the weeds and what little grass was left and rented a rototiller to begin preparing the ground. After raking piles of rocks, roots and other debris, I rented a roller and flattened the ground. I then seeded it with, because of  a monsterous spruce tree that dominates the landscape, a special blend of shade-loving grass, then spread some compost over it and watered and waited.

And watered and waited.

And watered and waited.

Finally, after about 10 days, a green haze began to appear over the dark earth like the fuzz on a peach.

And there they were. Peeking out of the soil along with the grass were thousands of tiny weeds . What kind of weeds? That’s like asking, “What kind of bear is chewing on my leg.” WHO CARES!  All I know is they weren’t grass. I’m guessing they came from seeds left over from the previous lawn. Initially, the compost was a culprit, but I’ve spread that stuff all over the place and no weeds have shown up anywhere else. I don’t suspect the seed company. Any company sending out that many weeds isn’t in business long.

Regardless of origin, there they are, tauntingly lifting their broad leaf arms to the sun, squeezing out innocent grasslings. I’ve mowed three times now and have been told I can soon spread weed and feed to kill them off. But that seems like a lot of extra time, work and expense.

And, after all, they are green. And mowing them isn’t any harder than mowing the grass. It’s already been a lot of work. Maybe I could just leave them alone, kind of a botanical live-and-let live.

Besides, being a West Coast distributor, I have a reputation to uphold.

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