The grass doesn't always have to be greener

“Your neighbors let you do this?” my dad said as we embarked upon a neighborhood walk years ago when I lived in Oregon.

“Do what?” I wondered, looking around. 

“Well, look at it,” he pointed to my front yard. “Your grass is brown — you should water it!” 

“Why?” I said. “It’s going to be green in a few months.” Indeed, it would be: a chlorophyll haven that easily could become a jungle in the spring if not frequently mowed. 

As we walked, we saw a few yards that were watered to bring the grass to golf-course green. Most were as brown — I prefer the term “tawny” — as mine, and no one seemed to be suffering any neighbor shame for it. 

My dad shook his head in amazement, and you just knew: His lawn back home in Helena was going to have to be green. (And it was.) 

Still, every spring I gird myself for The Talk, this time at work. 

One of my colleagues, a solid fellow from Havre, where he cut his teeth playing baseball with the Milk River Prairie Dogs and sported the shiniest shoes in town, is a few years my senior and helps with maintenance 15 hours a week at the Northwest Montana History Museum. Mostly he is Lord of the Flies, but also the landscape guy. 

We almost never disagree but for one thing. 

He loves a green lawn. I don’t. Or, more accurately, I don’t care.  

Our debate centers on whether to turn on the sprinklers. Working at a nonprofit as we do, I always argue that it’s financially responsible to delay the expense of irrigation. Avoiding it altogether would be my first preference. 

My colleague, on the other hand, takes pride in the appearance of the property and loves that people notice. 

“When it looks bad, that reflects on me, too,” he exclaimed last year. 

He does a great job. I just think watering a lawn in Northwest Montana in the summertime is wasteful and unrealistic. Plus, you then have to mow a bunch more. What am I missing? 

If grass is green, or covered with snow, for the other nine months of the year, what does it matter if kept dry the rest of the time?  

I’ve seen lawn hacks from fake turf to paint, just to belong on the green-grass team. 

I myself dream of drought-resistant xeriscaping, which would be far from a zero-scape. At home I want to cultivate a native grass meadow like what you see hiking around Lone Pine State Park. Or how about a carpet of bitterroot, Montana’s state flower, which thrives in the driest dirt?

Next month the museum hosts Donna L. Erickson, who’s a rancher, writer and landscape architect. I'll get to ask her.

We got lucky this summer with fantastic weather and increased precipitation. My coworker said as much as he hesitated recently leaving my office: “We haven’t had to talk about the lawn this year.”  

We both smiled in relief. 

Tomorrow is the last day of summer. We made it.

Margaret E. Davis, executive director of the Northwest Montana History Museum, can be reached at mdavis@dailyinterlake.com.