I Stopped Mowing My Lawn

And magic happened...

Hello! Hope you’re well. Here’s the latest.

(We begin with my journey of rewilding—if you’re not into that, just scroll down for some good stuff about Holy Ghost Stories.)

Why I Stopped Mowing

I’m just too excited about this not to share it. A few weeks ago, I acted on something I’d been considering for a while: I’ve turned (much of) our yard into a meadow.

Actual footage

Why? Well, lately I’ve begun to see unsettling similarities between large-scale monocrop farming and clearcutting…and the keeping of a Modern American Lawn™.

Before I say anything else, please hear me: this has nothing to do with you. I’m not commenting on your decisions; I’m just sharing my own. No judgment! Good? Good. Okay—with that said, here’s how it all started.

As Spring arrived this year, I was so happy to see the grass grow—thick with vitality thanks to some good rain and dotted with flecks of colorful flowers—I found it hard to bring myself to cut it. I waited until Easter and then took the riding mower on its maiden 2024 voyage. The product pleased me (I, like you, have been conditioned to appreciate the order and uniformity of a well-mown lawn)…but there was an unmistakable grief to it as well. I was sad to see the big clumpy swaths of green reduced to stiff turf. But such is my civic duty, no? Having a well-manicured lawn is as American as free refills and Tom Hanks.

Then we went out of town for the HGS tour. When I came back after 10 days, the lawn had (of course) grown up a bit. This time, white clover was in flower (lots of it), and a vast congregation of bees were bowing at the petals, drinking nectar and carrying it off to hidden hives. In 30 seconds of looking, I spotted more than 10 ladybugs. As I walked through the yard, I saw a five-lined skink scuttle out of my way, its electric blue tail whipping in its wake.

Immediately, my mind flashed back to a moment last summer when it’d been a full 9 days or so since I’d last mowed. Cutting through the 4-inch growth, I was shocked to see how many creatures fled from my path of destruction. And all of this so that my lawn could look like the images I’ve seen on TruGreen commercials and that creepy neighborhood in Edward Sissorhands.

This will feel like I’m over dramatizing it, but I’m telling you: I stood there in the grass and felt this deep, pulsing conviction—this responsibility to steward the acre of land I’ve been given and to stop imposing my aesthetic will (was it even mine?) on it at the expense of actual life and beautiful diversity.

I felt versions of the sentiments I’ve since discovered in a 1989 article from Michael Pollan chronicling his own lawn-related perspective shift:

“Under the mower’s brutal indiscriminate rotor, the landscape is subdued, homogenized, dominated utterly.”

“[I realized] a lawn was nature under culture’s boot.”

And this gem:

Hot monotonous hours behind the mower gave rise to existential speculations. I spent part of one afternoon trying to decide who, in the absurdist drama of lawn mowing, was Sisyphus. Me? A case could certainly be made. Or was it the grass, pushing up through the soil every week, one layer of cells at a time, only to be cut down and then, perversely, encouraged (with fertilizer, lime, etc.) to start the whole doomed process over again? Another day it occurred to me that time as we know it doesn’t exist in the lawn, since grass never dies or is allowed to flower and set seed. Lawns are nature purged of sex and death. No wonder Americans like them so much.

I hear you, Michael.

So I quit.

Two and a half weeks ago, I stopped mowing. Okay—I didn’t exactly stop mowing; I stopped indiscriminately clearing and started intentionally…trimming. I still, you see, want my lawn to be attractive. So how to rewild my yard without making my property look like humans are the only creatures who don’t live here? I can’t stand chaos and I’m not a fan of the idea of our place looking disheveled. So what to do?

The key, I realized, lies in distinguishing order from control. Is there a way to maintain visual order while relinquishing (what I believe to be an unreasonable amount of) control?

Yes.

And I’ve decided the solution is a both-and approach to the “lawn” and the “meadow.” In her TED talk entitled “Let Your Garden Grow Wild,” horticulturist and Harvard Loeb Fellow Rebecca McMackin suggests Americans begin thinking of our lawns as area rugs rather than wall-to-wall carpeting. She encourages us to consider finding ways to maintain our properties so that they offer food, water, and shelter to local wildlife. (And at a time of unprecedented species extinction and habitat loss, this seems like a valuable offering. Just for context, we have lost—and this is real—almost half of the insects on planet Earth since I was a child. Half. In North America, we’ve lost 29% of our birds in the same amount of time.)

So instead of disallowing birds and insects and reptiles and small mammals from using almost any square inch of my yard, I’ve started devoting most of it to their well-being. (And the plants’ well-being also—I think they’re glad to have been freed from their weekly decapitation.) I’ve created an area rug of lawn in the front and back yards, trimmed a gently sloping border around the perimeter of the now-meadow, and I’ve also mowed a curved path through one section of meadow as a treat for us on family walks.

We’re path people now.

And the effect?

Again, I feel certain you’ll think I’m overdramatizing, but I promise this is true: the entire family loves it. Sometimes we sit outside and just look at the meadow. Isn’t that ridiculous? But we do! And why? Well, it’s now become a place of:

1. Beauty - White, purple, yellow, and periwinkle blossoms, long green blades swaying contentdly with every breeze, butterflies flitting here and there and everywhere, and the whole thing sculpted with lovely bending borders—we can’t look away. In her TED talk, McMackin says “part of this work is changing our ideas of beauty”—this is true, but I’ve found that journey to be a quick one.

2. Diversity - Before, I saw “grass” (the bottom two inches of most plants looks pretty similar). Now, there’s yellow wood sorrel and field madder and lyreleaf sage. Dock and red clover and dove’s foot geranium. White clover and hemlock and ribwort plantain and, yes, grass—but with an array now of blades and stalks and seed florets. And then there’s the fauna—multiple bee species and hoverflies and seven-spot ladybirds, ruby-throated hummingbirds and white-capped chicadees and eastern meadowlarks, a menagerie of butterflies— meadow fritillary, little yellow, ozark swallowtail, and southern cloudywing (truly—it’s not that you see butterflies, it’s that you cannot not see butterflies—they’re everywhere). It’s startling, actually: the meadow portions of our yard are now teeming with motion and life, while the mown portions are completely (I would say now, unnaturally) still.

3. Mystery - I’m writing this email beside a window that overlooks the southern portion of our meadow. A moment ago, I noticed movement and glanced up to spot an eastern cottontail rabbit slowly moving through the clover, munching on one blossom and then another. How long was it there? …What else is in there? These are questions I’m asking more often now. Rewilding and re-wondering and re-enchanting are never far apart, and they’ve officially converged for me in my yard. What was an expanse of predictability has become a wellspring of possibility and a metaphor for what’s true in a world wild with the Spirit of God.

Am I blowing all of this out of proportion? It’s just some overgrown grass, Justin—get a grip. First of all, do you hear our bias in that word? Is the grass overgrown, or is it just grown? But I digress. Sure—perhaps I’m making too much of this. All I can do, though, is tell you what’s true: I’ve let God make a meadow in my yard, gobs of creatures are happily inhabiting it, and it is filling me (and my family) with delight. ...Is this because I’m in my 40s? Is it because aesthetics and nature have an outsized impact on my particular personality type? Is it because I’m in my rural era?

I think it’s mostly because I’m a human.

The intermediate phase

Oh—and one more detail for you. Several days ago, my 15-year-old daughter had three of her friends to the house for a sleepover. About an hour before sunset, I went to the back porch to tell them something. But they weren’t there. I found them out in the yard, walking the perimeter as if it were a trail. “What are you guys doing?” I called. “They wanted to walk through the meadow!” my daughter yelled back. Four teenage girls, drawn outside as if under a spell.

I must confess—when I stopped mowing my yard I did not expect to rewild the children.

I have no regrets.

Seriously; if you’re interested, you should start with that TED talk and follow up with Pollan’s piece—it’s fantastic.

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Celebrating The Exodus Tour

The very first US Holy Ghost Stories Live Tour was an absolute joy, thanks to the hundreds and hundreds of you who came out to experience the marvels of the Exodus story and the amazing God who desires to dwell among us. From Huntsville, AL to Fort Worth, TX, all 5 shows were moments of encounter our team will never forget.

My wife and Hazefire Studios partner Jennifer organized a team of folks to pray together every day for the 10 days leading up to the tour, and Yahweh’s generous answers to those prayers were evident again and again.

This whole tour thing was an experiment, really, and we’re delighted that it was a success. Lord willing, there will be more to come (but not for a while—that was exhausting!). A big thank you to every one of you who joined us—every dollar you spent will go to making sure people continue to experience Holy Ghost Stories, both as a podcast and in these live expressions we’re coming to love so much. Every ticket matters, and we’re so grateful for your support.

Since Hazefire Studios is a team effort (and so many of you are on the team, by virtue of your monetary support, your prayers, and the way you share the podcast), I thought I’d share some of what you helped accomplish during this run of shows:

Praise God!

Now on to the next season of Holy Ghost Stories…

The Season 6 Premiere Is Coming

It’s almost here, folks. Season 6 of Holy Ghost Stories premieres on Monday May 27.🎉 We’ve got a fantastic batch of stories lined up for you (many thanks to the patrons who’ve voted), and the first one’s a doozy. Can’t wait to share it all with you.

Until then, the team here at Hazefire Studios thought it’d be fun to let you in on something that patrons have been enjoying for a while—remixed HGS scenes. There’s a growing collection of these over on Patreon, and in anticipation of Season 6, we’re going to share one from that library with the whole HGS community each day of the week leading up to the premier.

They’ll drop in the main HGS feed, so make sure you’re subscribed and keep an eye out come Monday morning 5/20. 🎧

What’s Happening With Hazefire Studios?

Several of you have inquired as to any progress we’ve made since the appeal in November. I’m grateful to report that we’re making progress. Of the $350K goal I shared as a budget goal, we’re at about $170K and counting! I’m in the midst of some promising conversations, and we’re praying that our God continues to enable the vision He’s given us.

Speaking of, I can’t wait to share some of what we’re working on with you. For now, a cryptic preview of projects in the hopper:

• A way to make the HGS library easier to use

• A collaboration I’m absolutely buzzing about

• A new Hazefire offering you’re going to love

• Something festive

That’s all I can say now, but I think what’s coming will bless you richly. All of this, of course, is enabled by generous people like you who believe in the mission of Hazefire Studios to explore and expand the intersection of story and worship. If you’d like to contribute, you can do so here. Let’s do this together.

3 Cool Things

It’s all YouTube this time. Here are three videos I can’t imagine you not enjoying today:

First, Lawrence packing an inordinate amount of fun into 7 minutes - Two things about this recording: 1) I kept looking at the progress bar thinking, ‘How can there be that much song left?’ and then being so glad there was that much song left. 2) This is not a worship song, but this should defintely be a worship song.

Next, an epic edition of The Local Project. If you want to get a group together to stay at this place, I’m in.

Finally, the inimitable Jacob Collier joined by Laufey, dodie, and the National Symphony Orchestra. Beginning’s fine, but the symphony joins around 3:00 and the really good part is begins at 4:26. This is one of the best “Jacob playing the instrument of the audience” moments I’ve seen, and I love dodie’s reaction during the rise at 6:50.

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That’s the latest! If you dive down the rewilding rabbit hole (or already have), I’d love to hear from you and compare notes. Thanks go all of you who came out the Exodus Tour—it meant the world. And keep an ear to the ground for Holy Ghost Stories as you’ve never heard it before with the first of seven remixed scenes dropping on Monday!

Gratefully,
Justin

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