South of Sunnyside

Growing up in Louisiana and North Carolina, I took for granted the fact that in some parts of the country, lush lawns grow without much effort—mowing, and perhaps a little fertilizer, but that’s about all it takes. Here in Fresno, on the other hand, nothing grows unless it’s in the spray path of a sprinkler or along in the runoff of a drip line.

Kim and I have learned that starting a lawn from the dirt up takes quite a bit of work, which is why our back yard is still spotted (at it’s best). We hired someone initially to install the sprinklers, grade and seed the soil. Just over a year later, we water two to three times a day (depending on the season), weed-n’-feed every month or so, and fertilize about as often (though not at the same time), but we’ve still got a lot to learn.

All of our efforts, however, are beside the point of this post.

With the social mind slowly shifting to efficient use of natural resources, I can’t help but wonder when we’ll start to confront the conformity of the American dream. You know the one: a house with a healthy, green lawn, bordered with a white picket fence. Can you see it?

Now, try picturing the scene without grass. Imagine, instead, that the lawn is a rock garden. Is the dream still desirable? I’m guessing not (unless you’re so socially conscious that this post comes years after your own thoughts on the subject). So why do we covet manicured grass?

I don’t have an answer, but my hope for the coming years is that there will be an upsurge in business for landscape architects who specialize in region-specific, sustainable designs. I don’t know what all that will encompasse, but surely we can learn to think beyond the maintenance and natural resource needs of grass. Right?

A few weeks back I received a phone call from a very pleasant woman on behalf of the Clovis Research Center. We’re on the Do Not Call list, but honestly, she was so professional and courteous I not only forgave the phone call, I answered a couple of questions for a survey (she assured me it would be quick, and it was). I only remember one, asking what we used for a vacuum (perhaps the others were demographic—age, etc.).

The next week I received another call from the same woman, informing me that for our participation we would be receiving a “thank you” of a three day, two night stay in Reno. Now I was suspicious; she assured me that there was no further obligation, that the voucher would never expire, and that it was completely transferable.

“Certainly, there must be a catch,” I insisted. “None,” she explained. “When would be a good time to deliver? I have someone who can come out tomorrow evening.”

Long story short, the “research center” sent a delivery man instead of mailing the voucher so that he could show us a HEPA system and ask our feedback; I had declined this offer at first, but was assured that we would be asked no more than 10 additional questions (and I assumed we could handle all of this on the front stoop).

I’m skipping a few details, but the next evening a man in scrubs showed up with a tablet in hand, claiming he was from the Clovis Allergy Center. In an awkward greeting, I invited him in, and he started the sales pitch, returning to his van to grab the Patriot Home Defense System (aka, vacuum). I remember hearing things like “this is not a vacuum, it’s an air filtration system” and guilt trips about how unhealthy our lifestyle is (which the vacuum could cure), but I zoned out for most of the pitch.

After wasting 30 minutes of our life, we started rushing what he explained as the first half of the demonstration. We had to leave…even if we didn’t, it was time for him to. The salesman whined about not getting credit for the demonstration, yet interestingly enough didn’t have a business card for us to reference in the future. No need to do so, however: when he admitted to the $3,000+ price tag for the vacuum, I assured him we would happily keep our Dyson.

Needless to say we didn’t receive our vacation voucher, though after reading about the encounters of others I’m not surprised (and glad we cut things short). And a simple Google search can’t confirm the existence of the Clovis Allergy Center or Clovis Research Center.

What started to annoy me—besides being deceived and the time wasted, that is—is the guilt trip that Kim and I received for allowing so much dirt into our home, and our lungs. The expense of the vacuum is worth the health benefits, or so the salesman argued. But the credibility of that sales pitch was completely negated by the overweight, out of shape “allergy center” salesman.

Be warned:

• Patriot Home Defense System
• Schoettler Research and Engineering
• Door-to-door sales

It’s days like this that I want to move.

Since I was a child I’ve dealt with allergies: a runny nose, a seasonal cough, and the occasional ear or sinus infection. I didn’t expect for my ailments to disappear when I moved from the humidity and pollen of the South, but I did think that they dry air might help a bit.

Unfortunately, my symptoms went from seasonal to daily. I now wake up with a dry, scratchy throat, and when I exert myself a little too much (like working in the yard for eight hours while it’s 108 degrees), I feel the onset of asthma.

Today I started coughing; I don’t expect it to clear until the smoke from the wildfires dissipate. Maybe it’s all a conspiracy—if I could breathe the air outside, I would be able to open the windows and save on energy costs…

It’s literally been years since I’ve spent more than a few minutes on two wheels…without a motor, that is. Now that I’m looking for cheaper methods of transportation—and a little exercise, I’m strapping on the helmet (Kim makes me) and cycling around the neighborhood.

One of the trips I favor is to Starbucks; I drive there regularly, but by biking I lose only about 5 minutes each way, and save about $1 a trip. There are a few routes I can take, though I’m not sure any are very safe; only about 1/4 of any of them have marked bike lanes, and those are full of debris and broken glass.

It’s amazing what we take for granted when driving our cars. Accessories like headlights are accepted as standard, but they’re non-existent on the bike. Riding home at 10:00 p.m., I realize just how dark our neighborhood is, and how few street lights exist in this area. Of course, most of the lights that have been installed (outside of the county island, that is) have been stripped of their wire…I guess I should invest in reflective clothing.