A Moment of Silence

This morning, as I was sitting on the front porch enjoying the first sips of my first cup of coffee, I noticed something. Rather I noticed a lack of something. It was totally and utterly quiet. Well not totally quiet, but it was certainly blissfully quiet. You see, the only sounds to be heard were the sounds of nature. Bird song, squirrel chatter, hoof steps, and rustling and buzzing filled the air. Normally the naturalist in me would want to try to identify each call, but I was more focused on what I didn’t hear - mankind.

Somehow I managed to pick the perfect moment on a perfect morning to sit on the porch. It was neither extremely early nor was it late. It was a few hours after sun up and a few hours before the rest of the local Sunday world would start functioning. I loved that I didn’t hear the diesel pickup trucks heading to work or a sports car racing too fast over the hills and around curves. I was thrilled that not a lawn mower, weed wacker, or chainsaw was whining. And the cool air made it possible for me to miss the hum and whir of air conditioners. It was the ideal time to wonder about a little something we all have come to accept as a normal part of our grand American life - the proliferation of gas and electric lawn equipment.

Raise your hand if you own a gas powered lawnmower. How about a weed wacker? Hedge trimmers? Give yourself an extra point if you have a leaf blower. Okay now think about how much you enjoy using these items. Do they make your life easier? Your yard prettier? Your ego bigger? I know my thoughts. I hate them. I hate the noise. I hate the maintenance. I hate the expense. In case I haven’t made my point, I despise most lawn equipment. But I love a rake and a good pair of pruning shears and the meditative exercise that comes from using them.

Now, now. This isn’t me preaching green. I own a lawn mower or two. I even have a weed wacker but no hedge trimmers. Nor do I own a leaf blower. But I do have a chainsaw and also a log splitter. And I adore my snow blower but only when the snow is too much for me to handle with a shovel. Most of us own at least some of these items and many of us might even consider them to be necessities. And you know what? I agree. However, I can’t help but to wonder that we, modern man, have become too dependent on the technology and less so on ourselves. Why use our own strength when you can use horse power? Somehow these toys make us more efficient while supposedly making chores all the more enjoyable to do. Just watch any Home Depot or Lowe’s commercial. You too can have the yard of your dreams. After all what would people think if your lawn wasn’t a certain height or if you left leaf litter on it?

There is a trade off, though, for all this ease and convenience. We trade our dollars, our garage space, our silence, and even our time. Yes, our time. Those fancy gadgets require maintenance so you don’t spend more money on new ones or hours trying to fix them. But I am more concerned about the one thing we give up that so few of us rarely put a price on - our health and well being. That is why I will choose to manually trim hedges and pull weeds, rake the yard on a crisp autumn day, and shovel a few inches of snow. All these activities improve physical fitness while providing much needed time in nature. I will do these things for as long as I have the health and body to do them, as well as the desire to hear bird song and my own thoughts.

But I still haven’t answered the question as to why there is such an increase in the use of noisy lawn equipment. After some pondering I think I figured it out. We, as a society, are trained to think that we are only as good as our productivity. So if we can get the lawn perfected, the hedges the ideal height and shape, and the patio cracks free of any green in the least amount of time then we are deserving of a cold beer and the admiration of our neighbors. Our weekend is wide open for some time on the couch, in the mall, or even in the gym. Maybe we’ll plan a fishing trip or hike because we love our time in nature. After all we work hard all week and we deserve a break. I don’t think I need to point out the obvious.

Yard work has become just another item on the to do list. A perfect lawn is symbolic of a perfect life. Flowerbeds make the house inviting and therefore we appear more agreeable. Weedless cracks mean we’ve got everything under control. But do we really enjoy the work? Or do we just want to keep up with neighborhood standards? Are we afraid of being the eyesore? Some of us do love planting and maintaining flower beds. Many of us love looking out at our sea of waveless green. None of us want to be that person who gets the tsk tsk every time someone passes our home. But one of us has to be. I volunteer to be that person.

I’ll be the one with the weeds, the overgrowth, and the imperfect flower beds because I love my quiet and my free time. I will do yard work when the time and weather allow for a long leisurely rake or weed pulling session. But I also have a team of quiet but not very detail oriented helpers. I’ve got horses that keep the pastures trim and goats that help with the wild roses. They will even feast on fallen leaves like teens on potato chips. I’ll happily listen to their chomping as they work for food. And if they miss a spot I’ll overlook it because this land is as much theirs as it is mine. I’ll never understand why people want to own acreage without livestock or a desire to farm. How can someone enjoy the land if they only aim to control it? I’ll leave that for you to wonder about.

I, however, will finish this wondering with these final thoughts. We are not our exteriors. We are not our curb appeal. The state of our yard does not represent the state of our being. But there is something about manipulating nature that makes us feel good; gives us a sense of accomplishment. I had an uncle who would go crazy if anyone walked on his pristine front yard. I swear that man could tell if a blade of grass was out of place. And don’t get me started on dandelions! I have a distinct memory of him getting upset while a young me picked and blew on one from a neighboring yard. He was a wonderful man but with a sadness in his soul that very few would understand.

So before you gas up that mower or switch on that leaf blower ask yourself one simple question, “Do I really need to be doing this today and do I even want to do it?” You might be surprised by your answer. Maybe you’ll opt to flop down on the ground and stare at the clouds. Maybe this fall you’ll pull out that maintenance free noiseless rake and make a pile of leaves. And maybe you’ll feel free enough to jump in it and enjoy a moment of silence.