Concerning Grass.

Earlier today, I decided that I want to learn more about grass -- what kinds grow where, how they are grown, and what sorts of environmental stresses have an impact on them. In particular, I am interested in knowing how they respond to animal urine and why.

There are a combination of reasons for my interest in this subject. First, as acknowledged in Michael Pollan's book, grass is everywhere, thanks to Humans. We grow it in great quantity, care for it, give it everything it could possibly need. Or, at least, that is the ideal for a lawn. Its evolution is linked directly to ours, initially by our consumption of grass-eating animals and later by our consumption of the Cereals (corn, wheat, barley, rye, et cetera).

Thus, by my reasoning, the evolutionary scheme of lawn grass has been designed, in part, to cope with the stresses placed upon it by Human-related beings. In recent years, these demands have changed, somewhat, and I begin to wonder where in evolutionary lines today's grass stands -- whether it is developed for the needs of the modern lawn or whether it is still evolving to meet those standards. Some of these stresses (herbicides, for instance), are quite new to our lawns, and are causing problems for both grass and Humans that have yet to be fully recognised. For instance, Poo from All Over Creation got sick from eating dirt in the graveyard (eating dirt is something that most babies do on occasion), and yet Cass did not even suspect the ingestion of synthetic chemicals even though she knew that Poo had been lawn-munching. These agricultural* changes have been implemented so fast, and on the whole people know so little about them, that there has been difficulty even in thinking appropriately about the stuff. Grass seems so friendly, so harmless.

And yet, on the other side of the picture, many of the older survival needs of the grass still hold true, today . . . albeit in a form that some of us might not reconise. In The Omnivore's Dilemma, Pollan mentions grazing (now routinely performed by lawnmowers) and the benefits of nitrogen-rich cow manure (supplanted by synthetic and natural fertiilizers, alike, but almost always sans bœuf). The most basic requirements for life (water, sunlight, fertile soil) are still present as always, though the soil is less dependable, perhaps, than it once was.

But what of urine? Apparently, it is common knowledge for people who own large dogs that dog urine -- especially female dog urine -- is extremely acidic and eats away at the grass causing what is known as 'lawn burn'. In my lawn at home, however, I have long noticed that where my dog urinates, the lawn is infinitely greener, and the pH of my lawn is fairly acidic, already. Which is enough to raise my eyebrows. . . .

Looking online, I found several sites, initially, that support the notion that the acid in urine kills grass, but many of the more credible sources pointed in a different direction. It turns out that dog urine, while highly acidic, is also extremely rich in nitrogen, which in small amounts creates a fertilizing effect. However, in great quantities or highly concentrated amounts (and especially on fertilized grass), the recipient plant an 'overdose' of liquid N, causing it to burn in a manner similar to any other kind of fertilizer overdose. The telltale sign of a urine-caused lawn burn is a 'puddle' of brown grass surrounded by especially tall green grass where the nitrogen became diluted enough to benefit rather than harm the grass.

Part of the reason I am sharing this is because there is a market, now, for urine-related yard problems. Sometimes, this involves marketing certain kinds of grass (especially fescue and perennial ryegrass) as more urine-resistant than others. However, there is also a sizable market for 'dietary' fixes, most of which are intended to lower the protein content of the dog's food and thus decrease the acid content of their urine, when acid is not, in fact, the main problem. This is extremely worrisome because so many people have dogs, and we have already seen what the pH changes in livestock have done for Human health (not to mention the health of the livestock).

But what, then, can be done to deal with these lawn problems? First, to look at the choice of dog. This is my dog, Kashi. She is half Shih Tzu, half Toy Poodle -- a mix sometimes lovingly dubbed the Shit Poo.


Because she is so small, she does not issue the same quantity of urine as, say, a Newfoundland. Moreover, she is a very fussy pisser, and is in the habit of marking her territory more than once whenever she has the opportunity (for instance, when we are going on walks). Between these two conveniences, my lawn is at an infinite advantage. Male dogs also create less havoc on their surroundings, for their habit of marking standing objects such as bushes is less disruptive, aesthetically, than a big patch of brown in the middle of the lawn caused by a female squatter. However, ultimately, it is a matter of repetition. If that male dog marks the same bush every morning, the bush is likely to suffer. If any dog is confined to 'doing his business' in a certain part of the yard, that part of the yard is likely to get too many Nitrogen deposits in one area. Most sites recommended varying the dog's potty routine or, alternately, creating a non-grass area for the dog to use for these purposes.

The other frequent suggestion was to douse the area with water within nine hours of urination. This apparently works well, though I would caution anyone taking this advice to try to do this in the morning and the evening if they do not want the sun scorching their grass, which is at its most fragile when wetted.

Two important variables were not properly addressed by any of the sites I went to. The first of these is whether the use of fertilizer contributed to the lawn burns -- whether, for instance, a dog which might benefit a lightly fertilized lawn might harm a heavily fertilized one. The second variable is the land itself. Looking down on my back-yard from the balcony, in summer, it is very apparent where Kashi has done her business, because there are tufts of grass about the lawn which coincide exactly with her piddle-habits (I know this because several years ago I was curious and marked the places she went in the backyard). Our front yard bears no such distinctive tufts, but softer, more general patterns. The difference between these two places? My backyard is more or less flat, whereas my entire front yard lies on a hill. If the pitch of the land can alter how the nitrogen in my dog's urine is dispersed, I imagine it would disperse a larger dog's urine, as well, thus benefitting rather than harming the lawn.

* The raising of grass was originally an agricultural activity, intended primarily for the nourishment of livestock.

Various Sources **

- Seefeldt
- Thompson
- Fuller
- Glover
- West
- Berkeley Parents Network

** These sources were chosen for their immediate availability on Google and thus representative of some of the most readily accessible public information on the topic.

Burning calories, growing calories.

I spent the course of today on my computer researching a number of things for one of my high school friends who is reviving Meadowdale High School's Environmental Club in the hopes that this reincarnation, with a different teacher in charge and based around a tight-knit core group of the orignal EWDS*, will actually be able to do something productive and establish a lasting reputation. Which, given the nature of the last group, would be an amazing accomplishment in and of itself.

Meeting David Giles yesterday gave me a lot of ideas of ways in which the Environmental Club would be able to make a name for itself throughout the school (as most of its members are now Seniors). It should be fairly easy to establish a relationship with the local grocery stores, especially health food stores and other places that are likely to be environmentally conscious, already. It is an extremely effective recruiting mechanism, as far as I am concerned. Free food handouts are always welcome among high schoolers.

My old high school also happens to have two or three little moldy greenhouses off the biology rooms that have not been used by anyone in years. This means that, with little more than teacher permission, the club might be able to clean them out and put them to use raising foodstuffs from exotic or normally invasive non-native plants without fear of contaminating the local area. The school has culinary classes which run the Student Store, an alternative to the cafeteria food which provides candybars and pre-packaged foods alongside freshly-baked cookies and other goods. It is already a widespread and popular idea to add coffee to the store's goods; with the ability to grow fresh, organic coffee beans right on school grounds, the last vestiges of a reasonable argument against the idea would vanish. (The school has multiple soda vending-machines in the halls nearest the cafeteria and hence can hardly make a valid argument that they feel that caffeine is bad for students. Soda has not only caffeine but an incredible amount of sugar and acid as well.) Chocolate, also, would probably be extremely welcome, and other, healthier foods. Even in endeavous like this, one must think first of popularity, after which healthier and more practical options may be readily accepted rather than forced upon the student body.

The way I see it, the only real downside to greenhouses is the building expense. They prevent the seeds from spreading into unwanted areas and they naturally correct for climate differences (temperature-wise, though humidity is another matter entirely), making it possible to grow all sorts of foods that normally would have to be imported at great expense. One might argue, of course, that a greenhouse can hardly produce the quality product as the plant's natural environment, but compared to label-less foods from heaven-knows-where travelling along a long production path to meet you can hardly be a better choice, especially when you never actually knew how 'natural' its envionment was in the first place. It probably depends on the plant in question, but as far as I am concerned, if the greenhouses are there, they should be put to use.

I have also directed them to Seattle Tilth for information on how they can plant other non-invasive, low-maintenance food crops out of doors around the school, especially for those weedy, grassy places where nobody ever walks in the first place. Also, there is the unused hill above our track which is notorious for erosion, covered only in shallow-rooted plants like Scotch broom and bramble raspberries that bear no fruit. ('Bramble raspberries' and 'bramble-berries' are my family's terms, on my mother's side, for what around here is usually called blackberries). Not only does that hill get quite a lot of sun, making it suitable for fruit trees in easily accessible places, but it also is just screaming for pretty native species like vine maples which will hold the soil in place. What is lovely about this is that it can be done small-scale, at first, and build up to something big but workable, without a lot of need for micromanaging. The big question is whether or not the District maintenence personnel spray the grounds pesticides. I am fairly sure they don't, and if they do, it is a fairly easy matter to start a protest (complicated, yes, but not difficult to rouse support, in comparison with other places).

The best part is that the Environmental Club of our rival school, Edmonds Woodway, has some close connections with several of the leading Meadowdale members through the music department. (Huzzah for band geeks and choir hippies!) Because of this connection, the two clubs intend to work together on a number of key issues and events and will be sharing ideas and resources on a fairly regular basis. I find this all very exciting -- the more so because I had to wait to get into University to have access to some of the opportunities that my friends might be implimenting at the high school. Moreover, the school needs a raise of student efficacy very badly; the only school in the district reputed to have more widespread apathy for the school system is apparently Lynnwood High. School spirit? Sure. Student efficacy? Not really.

For my own part, I shall find it easiest to begin at the local park, where my aforemenetioned friend and I can take turns tending to a part of the land that is never tended by the public officials and always overrun by lanky weeds. It is heavily shady, so I will not be able to grow food-stuffs, but it is an opportunity to learn how to cultivate the soil and replace weeds with native (and therefore low-maintenence) heavy shade plants like woodland flowers and ferns. I also wish to replace the bramble raspberries with native blackcaps (whitebark raspberries) and other members of the Idæobatus subgenus, such as Thimbleberries, which are thornless alternatives to raspberries little known because they are too soft to pack commercially. Though I have had homemade Thimbleberry jam before, and it is most excellent stuff.

I am beginning right now with research, first assembling lists of suitable plants and then looking further into them through the local . . . plant stores? I cannot remember for the life of me the proper term for such places. In the spring, I will deal with the last crop of weeds, harvested early to prevent their seeds from spreading. There are already tart little huckleberry bushes back there and tall old trees, both evergreen and deciduous. There is a little clearing in the corner of the park in she shade of these trees, with a soft, mossy rock at the center where people go to sit and be still or to play hide and seek. I will begin here with floor-covering, somewhat sparse so as not to impede pedestrians. Here, I will begin, where it is visible along the street-corner, where drivers-by are currently shielded from this precious little paradise by the intricate lace-work of dead weeds, brown and dry and brittle.

Gradually, I will work my way up the hill, digging up bramble bushes (no easy task) or killing them at their stumps. Round-up is an extraordinary set of chemicals. One or two carefully placed drops of partially diluted Round-up on the severed brank of a bramble bush will completely stunt and thus kill the leafless bush. One can apply it with an old mustard bottle wearing rubber gloves. It is only important to be absolutely certain that it will not rain within 24 hours of application, because it is water soluble and thus can get into the soil and damage the surrounding area. I usually rubber-band a tiny plastic bag over the severed end to play it safe. When working uphill from an already established garden, it pays to be extremely careful.

In the place of these invasive species, their native counterparts will be given free reign. I am still looking through the raspberry family for species native to the area (there are so many kinds to choose from!) and especially for thornless or especially healthy or useful varieties. I have . . . certain ulterior motives behind my interest in this kind of plant. Ever since I first saw the raspberries along the stairways and other small areas at the UW Farm (it continues to amaze me, how little space they take up), I have been consumed with the idea of replacing the much-loathed bushes that line our driveway, a steep hill rising away from the house in a southeasterly direction, thus giving everything growing there direct sunlight from the early morning and partial shade in the late afternoon and evening. Nobody likes the bushes that currently grow there, and my father is the only one who does not actively dislike them. Replacing them would not only make us all very-well-pleased-thanks, but it would also widen the driveway, which is better for everyone. They would look pretty, too, against the new wooden fence our neighbours put up only a few years ago. Anything that grows up against the wall is welcome. The only thing is, there cannot be thorns. And since raspberries usually require less maintenence than beans (for instance), it would be wonderful to replace them with thimbleberries or some other such thornless raspberry plant.

That is not to mention the valley behind our house which belongs to us and three or so neighbours. I call it a valley -- la meva vall xicoteta, my little valley -- but really it is only a hollow, about the size of a small house lot, except that the ground is far too unlevel for building. It, too, is filled to the brim with bramble bushes and thorny trees which have both long since choked out the smallish trees whose dead remains exist down there, decaying into the rich but running soil. There are walls, down there, five-foot stone walls, intended probably to slow the erosion in the days when the valley was still in use, but they are badly decayed and in sore need of repair. In spite of my investigative work down there with the loppers, the brambles still cover them so densely, in places, that it is impossible to scale them in places without injury.

I want to get the brambles out of here, too, not only on my lot on the neighbours' lots, as well. Nobody uses the place right now (save me), so I'm sure I would be welcome to do so, provided I followed the right sorts of procedures. Here, as at the school, would be an excellent place for vine maples and other deep-rooted trees. Mother wants to plant fruit trees along the ridges, where there is enough sun exposure, which would be absolutely delightful. The only drawbacks to this plan is that it would have to be done quickly, deliberately, and methodically. I would have to do careful research and probably employ the advice of a specialist both for the proper procedures and for the final result and follow-through work. And finally, there is a question of expenses. My parents want to bring a bulldozer down there to get out the roots (NOOOOOOOOOOO!) and even if I managed to avoid that cost, there is the expense of the plants with which I am replacing them. Trees, especially, do not come cheap. It would be so gratifying, though, to create a green space for everybody to use, and since that place was my childhood play spot and I since, moreover, will be leaving the house soon it will not be so difficult for me to give it up in good will (provided that there are no bulldozers involved; I hate bulldozers).

However, since I am the one who wants to do all this work at our house (and since I will only be living here for the next three years), I first have to prove myself at the park, to convince my mother that I am willing to make a long-term maintenence commitment to what I intend to start, here.

* EWDS was our affectionate term for the people of our group: It stands for Earth-Worshipping Democrat Scum. Most of our members, though, were not Democrats: we had several independents, some headstrong liberals, a socialist, and me (I am a libertarian-with-low-tolerance-for-Neoliberalism).

Stuck a Feather in His Cap and Called it 'Macaroni'.

Macaroni was a popular eighteenth century hat that was very expensive. The proverbial Yankee Doodle, then, was wearing an improvised hat and something of a cobbled job. . . .

Which is the topic of today's blog. It is all about a pot of macaroni, but it caricatures my family life so well that I shall have to share it!

It began when my sister asked me to go with her to get a bottle of milk. Although I was quite contented in working out a horridly difficult heraldic blazon on my computer, I agreed to go with her. Now, the reason that she could not go alone, in spite of having a drivers license, is because father strictly forbade her from going anywhere and inviting any but a very few friends over while he and my mother were away at the Seahawks game. By dragging me along (I had been given the responsibility that she didn't do anything forbidden), she would have a witness to prove that she did not just hop in the car to go visit her boyfriend.

Unfortunately for her, my parents had taken my father's van, and our mother's honda pilot is normally off-limits without specific permission. So we left a message on Dadi's cell phone explaining that we needed to get milk and couldn't we use mother's car? In the mean time, I took Kikers on a short walk to save her the disappoinment of not getting a ride in the car ("in that dress!?" quoth Dubi, whose idea of a mini-dress includes full-length leggings on windy days, even if the material hangs heavily and almost covers the knee; she has no such scruples about bared midriffs or low necklines).

I heard nothing more of the matter until I overheard my sister complaining over the phone to her friend about her horrible lunch, which she described as 'Macaroni Soup'. Apparently, my father called back and told her frantically that she was not by any means permitted to use Mima's car, so she decided (silly girl!) to replace the milk with extra butter. . . .
Apparently, one cannot taste the cheese. . . .

But the best is yet to come, for by the time my parents had come home, my sister had managed to cook most of the water from the 'soup', so that it looked, at least, like real macaroni (for it smelled as well as tasted only of butter). So my father, much to Mima's chagrin, decided that there must be some way for us to eat it all. We finally thought to put the stuff on bread and toast, a sort of grim and mortifying spread. It makes me laugh, how Dadi can be so puritanical about things like that, even though, as Mima says, it isn't really very healthy, apart from the calcium. Still, it's got more nutrients in it than the butter one would normally use on bread -- and more of Mr. Pollan's 'anti-nutrients', as well, I would be willing to wager. :7

Footnote: I have long since used diary nicknames for the people closest to me. Dadi is my father; Mima, my mother; Dubi, my sixteen-year-old crazy sister (a sopho-more, indeed!); and Kiki or Kikers my little dog, Kashi.