The following is based on a true story that happened in a horseshoe cul-du-sac neighborhood in unincorporated King County (Metro Seattle) during a rare summer drought in the mid-1990s.

A family once lived
in a nice neighborhood.
For as far as you looked,
all the front yards looked good.

T’was near the Pacific
that these fine yards existed.
Lush and green,
by Nature itself misted.

All green and manicured,
watered and mowed with care.
Herbicided. Pesticided.
No bugs or weeds there!

Each week like clockwork,
at a quarter past eight,
sprinklers would go on
keeping the lawns green and great.

(Even though in Seattle
it still rained a lot,
these folks still watered;
you know: In case it got hot!)

But this one family
had a south slope to their yard.
It made the sun bake it;
lawn turned brown and hard.

No matter how often
the Dad thatched and weeded,
the lawn wouldn’t grow.
So what more was needed?

He went out and bought
the best fertilizer.
While his wife was asleep;
(That’s sure to surprise her!)

But no matter how many
chemicals he put on,
the man could never green up
his scorched, brown lawn.

So one day he thought
(In a flash of inspiration)
“I’ll rip it all up!”
(or was it desperation?)

So up the grass came!
With each shovel he took,
the man left the dirt there:
each clod he shook.

He added some more soil
from his gardened back yard.
Good loam, organic,
that had never been hard.

Then the man went to a nursery
and bought plants by the dozens!
Herbs and natives wildflowers
for butterflies and their cousins.

Thyme and camomille,
rosemary, dogwood, rue.
Coneflowers and lupine;
sage, lavender, and moss, too.

And taking some slabs
he’d found near the freeway,
the man carefully placed stones
to make a rock pathway.

Each plant, herb and native,
he put in its place.
It was so creative!
A live masterpiece!

When the man finished,
sure, there was dirt. Parts were bare.
But nature grows and fills in,
so he didn’t much care.

He knew that the rains
of late fall, winter, and spring
would bring lovely growth;
the plants needed nothing.

One day his neighbor
met the man on the street.
Said the neighbor: “Doing yard work?
When will it be complete?”

“It looks so bizare!
It’s messy. It’s odd!
It’s so out of place!
When will you lay sod?”

Said the family man: “Oh, it’s done!
These plants need no more care.
They’ll grow and they’ll flourish,
and fill in what’s bare.”

He smiled at his neighbor;
feeling such joy, such pride
at the beauty he and Nature
were creating outside.

His neighbor scowled.
Disgust twisted his face.
“What!?!” he stammered.
“Just look at your place!”

“Your yard looks like garbage!
So messy. So dead.
You need to fix this!
You’re wrong in your head!”

“Come on!” his neighbor shouted,
“This does NOT look good!
Your dirt yard’s an embarrassment
to our whole neighborhood.”

With that the neighbor
turned and stomped back to his lawn’d home.
Sad, the man bent and dug
his hands deep into his loam.

He looked at his work
and murmured under his breath,
talking to his plants:
“I’ll show them yet!”

All through the fall,
winter, and spring,
the man watched his yard change:
Nature doing its thing.

By early the next summer
the plants had grown.
Flowers lush, vibrant, colorful:
A joy to behold.

And to smell! And to feel!
And to taste! And to feed!
This family’s yard had all the good food
that pollinators need.

They came! Bright butterflies and moths,
gentle wasps, bees, bugs too.
Colorful songbirds all came to feast
on blossom nectar stew.

Then something strange happened
in this eternal rain land.
The hot sun came out
and did not hide again.

No clouds to cover the heat.
No rain to make green.
No cool ocean breezes.
It was a bleak desert scene.

All the land was parched.
The sun? Scorching hot.
Was there enough water?
No, for a change, there was not!

So city and county governments decided
(because that’s what they do):
“Water rationing must start!
Free lawn-watering’s through!”

“You can lightly moisten your yard
only once every other week.”
So the Council declared
and the homeowners all shreaked:

“Our lawns! They’ll all die!
They’ll turn brown and bare!”
Said the government: “Folks must drink! Bathe! Flush!
Your lawns? We don’t care!”

Ah, but family man’s yard was native:
Herbs and flowers used to the heat!
They’d evolved that way.
With drought they’d compete.

And not just compete, but thrive!
Throughout a dry hundred days
they blossomed and flourished
and delighted people’s gaze.

Old folks would drive by to look.
School classes would visit,
asking the man about the plants:
Seeing, smelling, tasting: “What is it?”

Not just seeing row on row of
manicured lawns of green,
instead, a riot of color!
“Call Sunset Magazine!”

The man would patiently answer
each earnest joyful question
about his native plant front yard,
and he’d offer suggestions.

Because folks were willing
to listen and learn
how to replace sterile lawns
so easily burned.

The rains finally came,
(for the lawns, much too late.)
They’d all died and turned brown.
They’d all met their fate.

Replacing dead grass
is not cheap, easy, or quick.
It costs thousands of dollars
(and hope that sod sticks!)

One day by the mailbox
the family man met his neighbor.
Pointing at his dead lawn,
the man said: “Please, do us a favor!”

“Fix your front yard. It looks trashy!
It’s all brown. Dead. Not good!
It’s an embarrassment
to the whole neighborhood!”

The neighbor’s head dropped
like the blades of his dead lawn.
He remembered his cruel words.
He knew he was wrong.

The man didn’t gloat (much).
He didn’t chide or scold.
He let Mother Earth do the teaching;
changing young and old.

Letting them see
with his own tiny front yard
how each helps shape the world.
With Nature, it’s not hard.

To see how far I’ve come since those days, check out my wife Marnie Kuhns’ book on finding peace in Nature.