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Western Massachusetts

Green, Green Grass of Home

Uh, not that grass. I’m writing about the stuff that grows in lawns, a phenomenon that wasn’t part of my life for 11 years in New Mexico, except for parks and the odd patch of greenery in somebody’s yard. But here in Western Massachusetts, people take grass seriously.

Before I elaborate, I vowed when we moved to Taos never to mow again. My motto was “No mow, no más.” After all, I used to maintain a very large lawn with a motorized but not self-propelled push mower. No chemicals, of course. But it involved a decent workout since a hill was involved.

In New Mexico, the lands around our home were covered by sagebrush and in spots, obnoxious plants like tumbleweed. Long ago, the landscape was covered by prairie grass. Unfortunately, over-grazing by sheep destroyed the grass and allowed the sagebrush to take over. I would have preferred the prairie grass, but my attempts to grow it were hampered by wild rabbits that also preferred it. Still, the sage-filled mesa was lovely, and if I squinted without my glasses, it looked like the ocean.

Well, all that’s behind me. The landscape here in Western Mass. includes: large farms with fields of corn and other vegetables; grassy fields for hay; forests; rivers; and, yes, lawns. Since arriving in late July, I’ve watched people mow those lawns on a weekly basis. Even the humblest home, and there are certainly many here, has its grass cut low. Yes, they get the trimmers out as well.

I am amused by their diligence.

The place we’re renting comes with a lawn, actually a huge field that extends to a patch of trees near the Deerfield River, but mowing is not our responsibility, thankfully. Monday I watched as the handyman used a large sit-down mower to cut the grass. Even so, the chore took him hours.

Eventually, we will buy a home, with a yard and maybe a bit of land. I am wondering how long my “No mow, no más” pledge will last. Until then, I’ll let others do the work.

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: I saw this sign outside a bar in Millers Falls. I asked Hank to stop, so I could snap a photo. I am a sucker for funny signs. No, we didn’t find out if the beer was as cold as that. It was a bit early in the day.

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