Lo-Fidelity: It’s a nice day for a green wedding

I started using again — my lawnmower, that is. I’ve already mowed my own lawn a whopping four times — the first two while Aspen Mountain was still open. For me, skiing corn in the morning and mowing in the afternoon qualifies as an epic two-sport day. As an ad-hock philosopher, I do some of my best work behind the mower. 

This spring has been unexpectedly kind to the local strain of bluegrass. See how sickeningly beautiful and Emerald City green everything is now? Take a picture because it won’t last long. By July 1, everything will be burnt to crap from blinding sun and blowtorch wind. Next, aphid piss will be raining-down from the majestic, water-whoring cottonwoods all over town. I know this from experience. As a lawn guy, maintaining that fragrant lime-green glow of new spring growth is a charade I partake in all summer long for money.

This mowing season is already shaping-up to one of interest to me, for a couple of different reasons. The first being water. Already, Stage 3 water restrictions are in place. Learn them. Know them. Live them. Aspen lawns are nearly as sensitive and finicky as the locals. They drink water like drunken sailors on shore-leave binges. All it takes is one blistering day-off, then they get the shakes and go into withdrawals. 

It’ll be fascinating to see what effects the ongoing and impending drought has on the lawncare industry this year. 

Not to mention with rising gas prices and the cost of fertilizer spiking, lawncare workers like me are getting kicked squarely in the nuts right now. My hypothesis is that most lawncare services will go to a bi-weekly schedule to accommodate the lack of water after the initial growth spurt that happens over the next few weeks. 

You can clearly tell which yards have their sprinklers on and which do not. The difference is obvious. Watering your lawn should be done only under cover of the night; a covert, strictly out-of-sight, out-of-mind scenario — almost as if magic. 

I fired up my sprinklers a few weeks ago. Within mere moments of the system coming on, I received an amusing text from a nosy neighbor that read: “Sprinkler violation.” Neighbors …

As far as I’m concerned, Aspen is one giant sprinkler violation. Everywhere I look, I see sprinkler violations. I predict an onslaught of self-deputized water-cops out there this summer, shaming people for using too much water and dutifully reporting abusers to the authorities. 

The one inexcusable sprinkler violation I see on a regular basis? Daytime watering. It drives me absolutely crazy. You’d think “locals” know better. There’s a goober in my neighborhood who’s a flagrant, habitual, textbook offender whom I can’t wait to nark on. I’m actually getting a little giddy just thinking about it. Let the shaming commence.

Speaking of violations, I’ve seen some pretty egregious leaf-blower abuse this spring all over town, too — workers unnecessarily kicking up huge clouds of dust and creating a nuisance for everyone involved. Dude, we’re already public enemy number one. You’re making us in the lawncare industry look bad. If you see something, say something. I do. I’ve called the city environmental department and reported people, and I will happily again. 

The secret to a water-conscious lawn? Leave it long. I set my mower to the highest setting it’ll go and just take the tippy top-off the grass. Make sure your blade is sharp, too. Don’t bag it. Mulch or side-discharge only. If you’re cutting any more than a third of the grass length, stop immediately, and raise the height of your mower. The less you cut, the more-better the lawn looks.

Look at the city parks, for example; see how long and lush the parks are? They cut ’em up high for a reason. I do the same for my lawn and my clients. When one of my customers tells me to cut their lawn shorter, I simply say, “No.”

I’ve been mowing lawns in Aspen since sixth grade and, miraculously, haven’t cut my foot off yet. Over the years, I’ve witnessed the lawncare and landscaping industry balloon into a multi-million dollar behemoth. Take the West End where I grew up, for example. Everybody used to cut their own lawns. Now, no one cuts their own lawns. Today, huge crews show up in trucks pulling giant trailers, schlepping mowers, trimmers and blowers and generally harshing the mellow. The finished product looks stunning, though. You gotta break eggs to make omelets. 

Who doesn’t love the fruity smell of fresh-cut grass? Sunday after mowing, I gazed upon my lawn with an innate sense of satisfaction. I visualized a highly unlikely scenario where I suddenly became rich beyond my wildest dreams and was forced by law to vacate my employee-housing unit. A rhetorical question presented itself: Would I still mow my own lawn in Starwood? The universe immediately answered a resounding  “Yes!”

Contact Lorenzo via suityourself@sopris.net.