Love Your Weeds, Again (and again, and again, even when it seems like others will never agree)
Back in May of 2010, I wrote a post on the joys of having a little untamed greenery in your domain. Later, in July, I followed it with a tale of the conflict of landscaping philosophies we've had with a neighbor and how we managed to assert our autonomy in the face of his hostility. What appeared to have been resolved then was only sleeping, it seems, to wake when the neighbor felt a little cantankerous again.
A little over a week ago, I was out pruning the lilacs and trimming some of the other plants that decorate our front yard when he asked to talk to my husband. His complaint was that our son never mows the patch of "weeds" near the fence, and he was concerned they might creep over and affect his garden. Now, there are certain areas where the natural plants flourish and add a woodsy quality to the shady parts of the yard. There are also areas where we have deliberately planted native perennials because they're well adapted to the soil and weather conditions, and they provide natural beauty with less maintenance. The area in question happens to be planted with daylilies, and also has some vines and buttercups nearby, all of which have been there for a decade or more. Sensing this was the beginning of yet another attempt to get us to conform to his concept of perfection, my husband was firm but friendly in his response. We like a more natural look, he reminded the neighbor, and we'll keep our yard as we like it, just as he keeps his as he prefers. The neighbor was welcome to cut off anything that comes into his yard, but we would not be mowing down our landscaping even if it didn't meet his standards. Taken aback and momentarily speechless, the neighbor retreated to his house where I could hear him griping loudly to his wife as I finished my work.
For a few days, things were quiet. Then one morning before work, I thought to water the garden in expectation of another hot dry day. I had recently transplanted seedlings, and keeping them moist in a string of rainless days was important for a successful transition. The neighbor came out to oversee the activity, as he often does, and confronted me in the middle of my task. "What about the mosquitoes?" he accused. Our weeds were attracting mosquitoes, and we weren't considering that he couldn't enjoy his pool with pests around, he challenged. I was already a little irritated because I had managed to spray my work clothes with the hose, but I tried to respond with calm reason. Mosquitoes flourish where there is standing water, I explained. They are not particularly attracted to plants. I stopped short of citing authorities who state that a conventional short grass lawn is actually more likely to encourage mosquitoes than natural landscaping (excepting wetlands,) because I could tell he wasn't receptive to my case. He accused us of keeping a "mosquito haven," and said he couldn't enjoy his yard as long as ours was weedy.
There have been numerous neighbor offenses from his side of the border over the years, including loud all-night parties in the middle of the week, a monstrously huge shed that blots out the sun in one area, and a blindingly bright spotlight in another. There have been plenty of his actions that have impaired our enjoyment of our home. There have also been encroachments and invasions like the time he took advantage of our weekend out of town to hack limbs off one of our trees and the unauthorized planting in the side yard that started the last go-round. In all this time, we've tried to deal calmly and fairly with him and respect the autonomy of his yard even while he ignored it in ours. I've held back pretty well under his attacks on our green philosophy, but that was the wrong morning for an ambush. I snapped at him. Of course there are mosquitoes, I snarled, there are all sorts of living things outdoors, and if he wants to be outside he'd just have to get used to the idea. I did have enough restraint to avoid turning the hose on him, but it certainly wasn't a good example of my usual patience. I made it clear that I wasn't budging on my stance, finished watering the garden, and went inside to fume over it.
The negative impact lingered for the whole day, and I was certain this was just the first battle in a new lawn war. Live and Let Live just isn't his style, and he had used a friend in the Village Hall to strike at us before. Although they are generally only loosely enforced, our town has rather antiquated and easily abused weed laws that don't account for modern attitudes toward natural landscaping. If enforced to the letter of the law, they could, in fact, order us to cut down "any plant" over eight inches tall, which would include all our trees, rose bushes, vegetables and the like along with the "weeds". Judging by how things ran the last time our neighbor called on his friend, we could be in for a long, rough ordeal. I could make the case for our ecologically friendly choices, but all that means nothing against revenge and conformity. Certain that we would not get a fair shake in the matter, I nonetheless prepared to defend the life in my domain because it's the right thing to do. All my spare time was spent gathering research on the usefulness of native plants and on efforts in my area to protect and promote them.
My brother-in-law read The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt and recently recommended it to my husband; so there's been a lot of talk lately about how people form opinions and defend them. Mostly, people operate on instinct, emotionally, then reach for anything they can to support their argument. Opinions tend not to change from outside sources, as we're too busy trying to rationalize our gut feeling. With all this in the back of my head, I knew convincing the neighbor that ours was a healthy lifestyle was unlikely. It would be particularly tough since I had cut off negotiations in such a curt manner. Now pride was in the mix, a challenge to his imagined authority and power. Our best bet would be riding out the consequences of his wounded pride. At the same time, we needed to take steps that made it clear ours was a conscious, earth-friendly choice rather than the laziness of uncooperative neighbors. Whether anyone ever agreed with that choice was irrelevant. Yet as I was doing my research, I began to think that one can be unyielding in one's principles without needing to be unfeeling.
Was our neighbor really frightened of the threat of mosquitoes? Was he really concerned that our daylilies and vines would destroy his garden? Or were these just the arguments he used to back up his emotional outburst? Could it be that more than twenty years of looking at our woodsy yard suddenly caused him to snap, or is there something else motivating this new push against the untamed? This neighbor is older, retired for a few years, with little to do but putter around his yard in an effort to avoid thinking about his shrinking influence in the world. He is grasping for what little power he can by not only trying to control his territory, but trying to force others to do as he says, as well. Like a small dog that yips through the window at anyone with the audacity to walk past his house, our neighbor feels a need to control all he sees... and we all know that can't work. I can sympathize with feelings of powerlessness. It must be frustrating to try to exercise that control only to meet resistance. Dismissing his concerns, however unfounded, out of hand only underscored what was likely the real problem. His light is fading. Pity started to replace some of the anger he had inspired.
Now I was left with a more complex problem. How do we stand firm and reestablish the boundaries while at the same time, offer comfort to a toothless old man? Our plan is many layered. We will be marking our wild plants with signs to recognize their importance in the yard and seeking certification as a wildlife habitat. Neither of these offers any real protection against improperly applied ordinances, but it does declare intent. We will eventually be moving our plantings back a foot or so from the property line and having a solid fence installed between us. His half-finished cyclone fence is apparently inadequate at dividing our lots, and since things that grow near that line turn suspiciously brown and withered, it's probably better for our plants in general. I'm even considering putting up a bat house to address his mosquito concerns, though that would likely spark fears of bat-impact. For the time being, I've quietly cut back some of the vines, not because I feel he has the right to dictate, but merely for the sake of his comfort. My husband thinks I may have sent the wrong message, and that this one little concession may embolden him to push farther. He's probably right. It surely won't be the end of our problems with him, but it was the compassionate thing to do, whether the neighbor recognizes it or not. Loving your weeds and loving your neighbor can take patience and persistence. You just have to be willing to dedicate yourself again and again even when it seems you're the only one who really sees them for what they are.
A little over a week ago, I was out pruning the lilacs and trimming some of the other plants that decorate our front yard when he asked to talk to my husband. His complaint was that our son never mows the patch of "weeds" near the fence, and he was concerned they might creep over and affect his garden. Now, there are certain areas where the natural plants flourish and add a woodsy quality to the shady parts of the yard. There are also areas where we have deliberately planted native perennials because they're well adapted to the soil and weather conditions, and they provide natural beauty with less maintenance. The area in question happens to be planted with daylilies, and also has some vines and buttercups nearby, all of which have been there for a decade or more. Sensing this was the beginning of yet another attempt to get us to conform to his concept of perfection, my husband was firm but friendly in his response. We like a more natural look, he reminded the neighbor, and we'll keep our yard as we like it, just as he keeps his as he prefers. The neighbor was welcome to cut off anything that comes into his yard, but we would not be mowing down our landscaping even if it didn't meet his standards. Taken aback and momentarily speechless, the neighbor retreated to his house where I could hear him griping loudly to his wife as I finished my work.
For a few days, things were quiet. Then one morning before work, I thought to water the garden in expectation of another hot dry day. I had recently transplanted seedlings, and keeping them moist in a string of rainless days was important for a successful transition. The neighbor came out to oversee the activity, as he often does, and confronted me in the middle of my task. "What about the mosquitoes?" he accused. Our weeds were attracting mosquitoes, and we weren't considering that he couldn't enjoy his pool with pests around, he challenged. I was already a little irritated because I had managed to spray my work clothes with the hose, but I tried to respond with calm reason. Mosquitoes flourish where there is standing water, I explained. They are not particularly attracted to plants. I stopped short of citing authorities who state that a conventional short grass lawn is actually more likely to encourage mosquitoes than natural landscaping (excepting wetlands,) because I could tell he wasn't receptive to my case. He accused us of keeping a "mosquito haven," and said he couldn't enjoy his yard as long as ours was weedy.
There have been numerous neighbor offenses from his side of the border over the years, including loud all-night parties in the middle of the week, a monstrously huge shed that blots out the sun in one area, and a blindingly bright spotlight in another. There have been plenty of his actions that have impaired our enjoyment of our home. There have also been encroachments and invasions like the time he took advantage of our weekend out of town to hack limbs off one of our trees and the unauthorized planting in the side yard that started the last go-round. In all this time, we've tried to deal calmly and fairly with him and respect the autonomy of his yard even while he ignored it in ours. I've held back pretty well under his attacks on our green philosophy, but that was the wrong morning for an ambush. I snapped at him. Of course there are mosquitoes, I snarled, there are all sorts of living things outdoors, and if he wants to be outside he'd just have to get used to the idea. I did have enough restraint to avoid turning the hose on him, but it certainly wasn't a good example of my usual patience. I made it clear that I wasn't budging on my stance, finished watering the garden, and went inside to fume over it.
The negative impact lingered for the whole day, and I was certain this was just the first battle in a new lawn war. Live and Let Live just isn't his style, and he had used a friend in the Village Hall to strike at us before. Although they are generally only loosely enforced, our town has rather antiquated and easily abused weed laws that don't account for modern attitudes toward natural landscaping. If enforced to the letter of the law, they could, in fact, order us to cut down "any plant" over eight inches tall, which would include all our trees, rose bushes, vegetables and the like along with the "weeds". Judging by how things ran the last time our neighbor called on his friend, we could be in for a long, rough ordeal. I could make the case for our ecologically friendly choices, but all that means nothing against revenge and conformity. Certain that we would not get a fair shake in the matter, I nonetheless prepared to defend the life in my domain because it's the right thing to do. All my spare time was spent gathering research on the usefulness of native plants and on efforts in my area to protect and promote them.
My brother-in-law read The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt and recently recommended it to my husband; so there's been a lot of talk lately about how people form opinions and defend them. Mostly, people operate on instinct, emotionally, then reach for anything they can to support their argument. Opinions tend not to change from outside sources, as we're too busy trying to rationalize our gut feeling. With all this in the back of my head, I knew convincing the neighbor that ours was a healthy lifestyle was unlikely. It would be particularly tough since I had cut off negotiations in such a curt manner. Now pride was in the mix, a challenge to his imagined authority and power. Our best bet would be riding out the consequences of his wounded pride. At the same time, we needed to take steps that made it clear ours was a conscious, earth-friendly choice rather than the laziness of uncooperative neighbors. Whether anyone ever agreed with that choice was irrelevant. Yet as I was doing my research, I began to think that one can be unyielding in one's principles without needing to be unfeeling.
Was our neighbor really frightened of the threat of mosquitoes? Was he really concerned that our daylilies and vines would destroy his garden? Or were these just the arguments he used to back up his emotional outburst? Could it be that more than twenty years of looking at our woodsy yard suddenly caused him to snap, or is there something else motivating this new push against the untamed? This neighbor is older, retired for a few years, with little to do but putter around his yard in an effort to avoid thinking about his shrinking influence in the world. He is grasping for what little power he can by not only trying to control his territory, but trying to force others to do as he says, as well. Like a small dog that yips through the window at anyone with the audacity to walk past his house, our neighbor feels a need to control all he sees... and we all know that can't work. I can sympathize with feelings of powerlessness. It must be frustrating to try to exercise that control only to meet resistance. Dismissing his concerns, however unfounded, out of hand only underscored what was likely the real problem. His light is fading. Pity started to replace some of the anger he had inspired.
Now I was left with a more complex problem. How do we stand firm and reestablish the boundaries while at the same time, offer comfort to a toothless old man? Our plan is many layered. We will be marking our wild plants with signs to recognize their importance in the yard and seeking certification as a wildlife habitat. Neither of these offers any real protection against improperly applied ordinances, but it does declare intent. We will eventually be moving our plantings back a foot or so from the property line and having a solid fence installed between us. His half-finished cyclone fence is apparently inadequate at dividing our lots, and since things that grow near that line turn suspiciously brown and withered, it's probably better for our plants in general. I'm even considering putting up a bat house to address his mosquito concerns, though that would likely spark fears of bat-impact. For the time being, I've quietly cut back some of the vines, not because I feel he has the right to dictate, but merely for the sake of his comfort. My husband thinks I may have sent the wrong message, and that this one little concession may embolden him to push farther. He's probably right. It surely won't be the end of our problems with him, but it was the compassionate thing to do, whether the neighbor recognizes it or not. Loving your weeds and loving your neighbor can take patience and persistence. You just have to be willing to dedicate yourself again and again even when it seems you're the only one who really sees them for what they are.
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