Spring has sprung the grass has risen and I wonder where the flowers are? Yes, the grass has risen and with it my ire. I have finally had it with lawns. I have struggled for twenty-six years to maintain a credible lawn by all of modern day society’s standards. I quit as of this spring. It will be what it will be on its own hook.

Every spring, or at least what spring is supposed to look like outside here in paradise, I look at each square inch of bare ground becomes exposed and cringe. Not because of the proliferation of time bombs left there by the two family friends but at the glaring glitches awaiting attention on the turf.

I see bare spots, the holes left over from last fall where Eika made one last try to dig out some pesky chipmunk before his den was blanketed with protective snow. Tired to the bone from trucking wheelbarrows of dirt all summer to fill in the excavations that occurred sporadically all summer, I left them until spring when I thought I would have a better outlook on life.

Well spring is here, and looking out on the carnage now I find my outlook has not improved.

Perhaps that last statement is not entirely true.

I am delighted to see bare ground no matter how unappealing it might appear to lawn aficionados like Ted Russell of Thendara Golf Club groundskeeping fame. At my age, and the accompanying disposition it sometimes bestows, I am burned out and am going to throw in the towel. Oh, I will fill in the hole’s which are sure to reappear along with the chippies but am not going to sweat how the rest of the lawn looks as long as the mower goes over it.

As an expert in repairing the destruction following the chipmunk wars I am going to digress and impart some expert advice to my fellows who I am sure, given the nature of dogs and rodents, share my same complaint. Try as I may I have never been able to dissuade a chipmunk from relocating his den entrance in any other than a prime piece of lawn. I have devised a plan to at least keep the damage to a minimum. I have literally had to fill two foot deep holes, so to prevent that from happening again I arrange layers of rock that maintain a tunnel back to the surface. I then place a sheet of one inch by four inch galvanized wire two feet square centered over the opening. An inch of top soil is placed over all and reseeded. Once Eika learns she is stymied by the wire she gives up and instead plays the waiting game and try’s to ambush the critter.

I can hear some of my old hunting buddy’s snort that I have gone soft in my old age or I would just shoot or trap the little pests. Not true the old sporting instincts still hold sway. It’s between dog and chipmunk, as it’s always been, with less collateral damage.

Now back to the rest of the lawn. Even if I did not have to contend with the dogs and pests, oops forgot the moles, I am no longer going to agonize over the other problems in maintaining a lawn for the envy of others.

If it’s green, I aim to let it be. After all fair is fair. The weeds should be able to compete on a level playing field. No more pesticides, fertilizer or weed control for me. No more lime, the pH Is what it is. It was good enough for the trees, ferns, trilliums and wild berries it’s going to be good enough for me. I am going to learn to appreciate the beauty in moss and the flowers of the wild mint and dandelions.

I do not want the weeds to take over completely. I want to see the robins and other birds gleaning up the bugs and worms. Diversity—that’s what I want. The left has it down pat. It may breed chaos as diversity has throughout the world, but so what? I will have a politically correct environment surrounding the Allen estate. If it’s good enough for the world, it’s good enough for me. Maybe I will be the only one to see the beauty in it—which will hopefully make me feel smarter than others.

Speaking of the birds I came to another conclusion after seeing a kestrel take a chickadee the other day at my bird feeder. I realize I have not been fair to the meat eating varieties of birds. I have devoted much of my life, time and money to enrich the lives and propagation of the seed eaters of the avian world and very little for the real meat eaters. Sure, I built a few houses for kestrels and saw whet owls but nothing lately. At first I felt bad for the poor chickadee but then I began contemplating what if any good could possibly arise from the event. First, the kestrel has to live and it’s not his fault that God set up the scheme of things the way they are, and secondly that I would be saving some money on bird seed. I am building the kestrel a bird house.

So there you have it the way my mind has been working the last few days as if it makes any difference or sense to anyone else.