Editorial

I fought the lawn and the lawn won... again

Wednesday, June 11, 2025

It was one of those days where the idea of an early winter sounded like a really good idea. At that point, I didn’t care if we were heading into the next ice age. I needed a break.

Hours of hard work translated into aches and pains running through my back and legs. It hurt so bad that it made me appreciate the winter months even more.

Let’s face it, I’m probably one of only a few people in this state that really appreciates that time of year. I’m tickled pink when the thermometer sinks into the “cold enough to make a snowman beg for mercy” category. I’m equally delighted when the snow starts to fly. The more we receive, the happier I get.

It’s the only time of the year where I’m not worrying about yard work. For three or four months, I’m free from having to worry about mowing, edging, pulling weeds or pruning. It’s the only time where I’m guaranteed there isn’t a single dandelion or patch of clover out there plotting a hostile takeover of what little grass I manage to get to grow.

Now don’t get me wrong. I enjoy going outside and taking in some fresh air as I tackle a “little bit” of manual labor now and again. Where I draw the line is when I’m outside for several straight hours, and the yard looks pretty much the exact same way that it did before I started (or it looks worse).

My perspective on yard work changed drastically after my family and I moved to southern Idaho nearly 20 years ago, and I became a homeowner. Before then, I lived on military bases around the world where “yard work” meant cutting grass on miniscule pieces of property that were technically considered a yard. That weekly chore took about five minutes to complete; six if you ran a lawn edger.

Being a homeowner gives the definition of “yard work” a whole new meaning. The fact I knew practically nothing about yard care didn’t help, either. To this day, I likely remain the only person in the United States who went to a free yard and garden seminar and got their money back. The harder that I try to get things to grow, the more they want to curl up and die.

The high desert climate of southern Idaho provides its own set of unique challenges to my gardening abilities. I’ve come to understand that, without constant care and nurturing, you’re more likely to get plants to grow on Mars than your own front yard. At least there are signs that water actually existed on Mars.

I’m not too sure that’s necessarily true in southern Idaho, where water doesn’t fall from the sky — at least not willingly. Instead, we rely on wells for our water. Around here, that means drilling deep holes into the ground that get dangerously close to punching into the earth’s core. If we’re lucky, we tap into sources of water that could date back to the Jurassic Period.

In a matter of fairness, I need to acknowledge that many backyard gardeners in this part of the state actually do get things to grow and thrive. I saw this firsthand during the community’s former home and garden tour held each spring, which served as an incentive to see how a yard is really supposed to look.

Each year, it represented a humbling experience. As I walked through these pristine gardens, it left me wondering how these people managed to get things to stay so green and healthy. Personally, I needed to use silk flowers and astroturf to achieve the same results back then, but I realized I’d probably end up killing them in the process.

Over the years, I’ve actually had some marginal success getting flowers to grow. Where I’ve failed miserably is getting the same results with the lawn. The biggest problem concerns the weeds. Having spent countless hours hunched over trying to pull dandelions, clover and anything else that’s not supposed to grow in most yards, I’ve come to a few inescapable conclusions:

1) There is nothing “dandy” about dandelions.

2) Clover, contrary to what my children once believed, is not “pretty.”

3) Jimmy Hoffa’s body is not buried in my backyard (I checked).

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve gone out and bought fertilizer, weed killer and other lawn care products hoping at least *one* of them would actually work. What tends to happen is that the grass ends up dying while the weeds thrive.

At one point, I considered more drastic measures to deal with the weeds. The idea of using napalm or explosives seemed like a reasonable option until I realized that a) I don’t have any napalm and b) I’m no longer allowed to use explosives.

A word about pesticides: It’s usually a good idea to read the warning label before you start spraying or spreading any of it in a yard. If you’re able to read the legal description spelled out in barely legible type written in ancient Latin, you’ll see the following message:

“WARNING! This product is designed to eliminate every form of weed known to exist on this planet — with the exception of the ones growing in your yard.”

After I used the stuff, I realized the more accurate description of this product was “feed ‘da weeds” since they were the only survivors.

Despite all the frustrations and setbacks I’ve dealt with over the years, I remain too stubborn to give up. I keep trying, hoping someday I’d make a breakthrough and finally get my yard looking great.