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The illogical lawning cycleHave you ever sat back, put your feet up and thought about what God must think of this modern world of ours? No, not all the horrible stuff – one does not have to be a rocket scientist to work out what He thinks of crime, corruption, nuclear weapons and man’s inhumanity to fellow man. What I am talking about are the completely strange and farcical things we all do that must make God sit back and laugh his head off.
Take lawns, for example. As someone who has done my fair share of fertilising, watering, hollow-tining, rolling, weeding, mowing and then carting bags and bags of cuttings to the local dump, stubbing my toe, losing my temper and ingesting ant poison – I often have wondered at the illogical nature of this never-ending cycle.
Staring into my third single-malt whisky on a warm summer’s evening a while back, I recalled being sent an e-mail from a friend about a weekly get-together of the Saints Movie and Social Club, with God chatting to St. Francis.
God: “Hey Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What’s going on down there on Earth? What’s happened to the dandelions, violets, thistles and stuff I planted eons ago?
“I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon.
“And the nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colour by now. All I see are patches of green.”
St. Francis: “It’s the tribes that settled there, Lord. They are called the Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers ‘weeds’ and went to great lengths to kill them off and replace them with grass.”
God: “Grass? But that’s so boring, it’s not colourful. It doesn’t attract butterflies, bees or birds – only grubs and worms. What’s more, it’s temperamental with temperatures.
“Do these Suburbanites really want grass growing there?”
St. Francis: “Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to sow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilising it and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.”
God: “The spring rains and the warm weather probably make the grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites very happy?”
St. Francis: “Unfortunately not, Lord. As soon as it has grown a little, they cut it – sometimes twice a week.”
God: “They cut it? Do they bale it like hay?”
St. Francis: “Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.”
God: “They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?”
St. Francis: “No, Lord, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.”
God: “Now let me get this straight: They fertilise it to make it grow and when it does grow, they cut it and pay someone else to throw it away?”
St. Francis: “Yes, Lord.”
God: “That’s crazy! These Suburbanites must be relieved when the rain stops. That surely slows the growth and saves them much work.”
St. Francis: “You aren’t going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.”
God: “What nonsense! Well, at least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in summer. In the autumn, the leaves fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes.
“Plus, as they rot, the leaves become compost to enhance the soil. It’s a natural circle of life.”
St. Francis: “You’d better sit down, Lord. As soon as the leaves fall, the Suburbanites rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.”
God: “What do they do to protect the shrubs and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?”
St. Francis: “After throwing the leaves away, they go out and buy something called mulch. They haul it home in bags and spread it around in place of the leaves.”
God: “And where do they get this mulch?”
St. Francis: “From companies that cut down trees and bushes then grind them up to make mulch.”
God: “Enough! I don’t want to hear about this anymore.
“Oi, Saint Catherine, you’re in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?”
St. Catherine: “Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It’s a really stupid movie about...–”
God: “I don’t think I’ll be bothered to watch it. I’ve just heard the whole story from Saint Francis...”
Chris Moerdyk
