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| Jimson Weed 3 by Georgia O'Keeffe |
Until a few days ago I believed that the weeds—so lush, tall, and verdant—were winning the pitched battle they were having with the plastic lawn. That plastic lawn, a mat of dull green, unnaturally uniform imitation blades of grass, occupies the front yard of a house on Locket Lane. It was only recently installed there with the aim of it passing itself off as an actual lawn rather than a hideous facsimile of one, rather like the fake words we hear from the government these days claiming to be “restoring free speech,” while punishing people who practice it or claiming to end the “weaponization of government” while actually engaging in it. In addition, there was clearly a covert objective of suppressing any potential rebellions from the weeds that had previously been essential contributors to what had once been a diverse garden of natural plants so future acts of “gardening” could be eliminated.
But when the rains arrived, the healthy dose of fresh water the plastic lawn received incited various seeds to germinate in the fertile soil below the lawn and then to burst through the barrier that was trying to repress them as they reached for the light. Indeed, in my latest reconnaissance mission, I observed that the weeds had taken over a large majority of the lawn’s former territory (my most recent estimate had the weeds at near 80 percent). I was heartened to see this because in addition to being an eyesore, the plastic lawn was an environmental disaster that in the name of “saving” water was releasing microplastics into the storm drains that would then take the polluted water out to the ocean. And it gave me hope to see that the nature’s freedom fighters were resisting oppression in such a spectacular way and would maybe even triumph.
But I’m sad to report that three days ago as I walked by the plastic lawn on my way to the park, I observed, with horror, that hired two mercenaries—obviously recruited by the people who lived in the house with the plastic lawn—I’ve never met them in person and have only briefly seen their shadowy figures through their front window—were at that very moment engaged in brutally ripping out the weeds by their roots. Of course, this outside interference in aid of the plastic lawn did not bode well for the outcome of the battle.
Sure enough, by the very next day the plastic lawn had regained all of its lost territory and was back to occupying the front yard as if it had every right to be there, rather like Russia occupying Ukraine with the claim that Ukraine started the war. At first, I was devastated by this sight—it’s so easy to lose hope these days, isn’t it? But eventually I realized that the victory of the plastic grass over the weeds was only temporary and that it is in the very nature of weeds to battle artificial grass. So, I understood that the battle between the weeds and the plastic lawn will continue for as long as there is a plastic lawn. And just yesterday I noticed a single tiny weed had already burst through the plastic lawn and was fighting its way up toward the light.
by Nina Zolotow
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