Strange that it would take a trip away from Vancouver, a city that prides itself on growing some of the best grass in the world, to inspire a bad case of lawn envy.
I grew up in a small Alberta town and never gave much thought to the grass under my feet during a childhood full of soccer, Slip and Slides and loitering. The grass needed no praise or mention, it was just a constant presence along with other staples like oxygen, mullets and bumper stickers featuring little boys peeing on one or another brand of pickup truck.
I moved to Vancouver in my mid-20s, settling into one of those ubiquitous three-storey walkup apartment buildings near Broadway and Granville. Overnight my backyard grass access went from acres to zero, replaced by a
hobo sleeping in my $25-per-month parking spot. It certainly made for some awkward games of bocce.
But I didn't really care.
I was young and going to university, only needing a front yard when I wanted to do a bit of ironic collegekid lounging (just like regular lounging except with more sarcasm and cheaper beer). The Lower Mainland obviously has other outdoor treats to
offer as well, including the famous same-day beach and ski combo as well as other things like Frisbee golf, bike trails and Secret Forest Midnight Naked Laser Tag (probably).
None of those things, however, can be accomplished in the tiny, gross front yard of an apartment building. Another thing that is tough to do on those gross apartment lawns is play with small kids.
"Daddy, who left all these beer cans here."
"Uhhh, college kids."
"Looks like the kind you drink."
"Go to your room!" My wife and I didn't want to get into that type of situation, so we moved to the North Shore, an even greener place, just before my kids were born. We have a basement suite now with a generous amount of backyard space
allotted to us, although when it comes to grass back there, it falls well short of the Slip and Slide standard. In fact, looking around the North Shore it seems that most yards and even many of the parks lack full-on Slip and Slide space. There are many amazing green spaces, but
big ol' stretches of flat grass are not a priority.
This never really bothered me, nor many other North Shore residents, it seems. Our esteemed gardening columnist Todd Major has basically declared holy war on big lawns. I imagine him conducting
secret raids under the cover of darkness, with unsuspecting homeowners waking the next day to find their lawns replaced by a stunningly beautiful rock garden, a squadron of exotic plants placed perfectly to catch our
limited sunshine, and maybe a gnome smoking a pipe, just for giggles. Yes, war is hell.
I bought in, mostly, happy to play with my kids on the little strips of grass while also finding fun a short car, bus or bike ride away on the beaches and trails.
But a recent trip back to my home province had me questioning all that. Everywhere I went in the small towns of Alberta it seemed that everyone had a huge lawn.
Our retirement-age parents have all climbed the small-city property ladder over the years and are now living in decentsized prairie houses, although none of them would be considered huge relative to the other properties in their cities. Yet each one of them has a yard seemingly big enough to host a softball tournament. To put it in
Lower Mainland terms, they all own properties that are approximately the size of New Westminster and approximately the price of an unfurnished plate of sushi. Those are estimates.
My parents' house sits on a lot - not much bigger or smaller than any of its neighbours - that can simultaneously house a paddling pool, mini soccer game, Power Wheels race track, mini golf course, barbecue and mullet museum while still having plenty of room left for a huge deck that I can drink beer on while making my parents take care of the kids.
And it's not just the well-established folks who are set up like this. The young couples we visited all seem to have lawns that would be declared national parks if they were plopped down in North Vancouver. On top of that, everyone seems to live within a block of an empty field of grass. The back gate of my
parents' yard opens onto a huge park that contains a grove of trees, a couple of hills, enough flatland to sustain three full games of pickup baseball and a wintertime hockey rink with more than enough
room for all the toddlers to park their pickup trucks.
Yes, I was officially green with envy.
But then the mosquitos came out. And my allergies came out. And some guy on a flatulent motorbike
came out (at 2 a.m.). And then I remembered that all that beautiful grass is covered in snow for anywhere between six and 13 months per year.
Then I got on a plane, flew back over the
mountains, set out a chair on my wee little North Vancouver lawn and took a deep breath. It smelled like sushi.
No, wait: it smelled like home.
