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 "Winterize your lawn," the big sign outside the garden store commanded. I've
 fed it, watered it, mowed it, raked it and watched a lot of it die anyway.
 Now I'm supposed to winterize it?  I hope it's too late.  Grass lawns have
 to be the stupidest thing we've
 come up with outside of thong swimsuits!  We constantly battle dandelions,
 Queen Anne's lace, thistle, violets, chicory and clover that thrive
 naturally, so we can grow grass that must be nursed through an annual
 four-step chemical dependency.
 Imagine the conversation The Creator might have with St. Francis about this:
 "Frank you know all about gardens and nature.  What in the world is going on
 down there in the Midwest?  What happened to the dandelions, violets,
 thistle and stuff I started eons ago?  I had a perfect, no-maintenance
 garden plan.  Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and
 multiply with abandon.  The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracted
 butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds.  I expected to see a vast
 garden of colors by now.  But all I see are these green rectangles."
 "It's the tribes that settled there, Lord.  The Suburbanites.  They started
 calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great extent to kill them and
 replace them with grass."
 "Grass?  But it's so boring.  It's not colorful.  It doesn't attract
 butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms.  It's temperamental
 with temperatures.  Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing
 "Apparently so, Lord.  They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green.
 They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant
 that crops up in the lawn."
 "The spring rains and cool weather probably make grass grow really fast.
 That must make the Suburbanites happy."
 "Apparently not, Lord.  As soon as it grows a little, they cut it -
 sometimes twice a week."
 "They cut it?  Do they then bale it like hay?"
 "Not exactly, Lord.  Most of them rake it up and put it in bags."
 "They bag it?  Why?  Is it a cash crop?  Do they sell it?"
 "No, sir.  Just the opposite.  They pay to throw it away."
 "Now let me get this straight.  They fertilize grass so it will grow.  And
 when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?"
 "Yes, sir."
 "These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the
 rain and turn up the heat.  That surely slows the growth and saves them a
 lot of work."
 "You aren't going believe this Lord.  When the grass stops growing so fast,
 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."
 "What nonsense!  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 the summer.  In the autumn they 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 form compost to
 enhance the soil.  It's a natural circle of life."
 "You better sit down, Lord.  The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle.  As
 soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and have them
 hauled away."
 "No!  What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and
 keep the soil moist and loose?"
 "After throwing away your leaves, they go out and buy something they call
 mulch.  They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves."
 "And where do they get this mulch?"
 "They cut down trees and grind them up."

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