Spring is here. And I’m terribly excited about microclover.
What’s microclover, you ask? Well, I’m no expert, but apparently it’s a variety of tiny clover that thrives in the shade. You can mow it like a lawn. And it stays green all year.
Microclover!
This will surely be the solution to my lawn problems.
For 20 years, I’ve been trying — without success — to grow grass in the shady parts of our lawn.
Each spring, I seed the shaded areas.
After three weeks, grass sprouts. And for the summer and fall, Chez Chamberlain is surrounded by a lush green lawn. Which, if you mow it, looks pretty good.
But each winter, the grass in the shady areas withers and dies. What’s left is mud and a few random grass blades sticking up.
It’s very depressing and, for some reason, reminds me of Russia.
The next spring, I reseed. And the whole pathetic cycle begins once again.
One year, I ordered $500 worth of turf for the shady parts. When rolled out, it looked absolutely fantastic. But after a season or two, the turf mostly died off.
All that was left was the underlay, a fishnet webbing that poked through like a silent reprimand.
The webbing seemed to say: “You do not have a green thumb. Forget about grass. You are doomed to a mud lawn. And, for some reason, it will remind you of Russia.”
A month ago, I read an article about something called mondo grass.
I’m no expert, but apparently mondo grass is a grass-like plant that does well in shady areas.
Wow. I walked through the house in a state of happy agitation, saying “Mondo grass, mondo grass!” like a mantra.
Our pug dog, Ollie, became terribly excited by this and rushed over with his toy squirrel. (Ollie invariably presents this disgusting, chewed-up object whenever anyone in the household makes an exclamation — no doubt a congratulatory gesture akin to popping a bottle of Dom Pérignon.)
I drove to the nursery to buy mondo grass. The garden guy led me to it, but it was black, not green.
“This mondo grass is black,” I said.
“Yes,” said the garden guy.
“But I want to use it as a grass substitute. For my lawn, like.”
“Oh yes. A black mondo-grass lawn. Very fashionable. Très chic, as French folk say.”
“Call me a traditionalist, but I want a green lawn,” I said. “Not a black lawn.”
The garden guy suggested I drive by a residence he knew of with a thriving black mondo-grass lawn.
I wrote down the address, but didn’t make the trip. Having a black lawn would be depressing and remind me of Russia.
The shady areas of my lawn have plenty of moss. This gave me an idea.
Why not go with the flow and have a moss lawn?
So I made a trip to the same nursery and asked if they sold moss.
“What happened to the mondo grass?” said the garden guy. “Did you go to that address like I told you to?”
“I’ve gone off the whole mondo-grass idea,” I said.
The garden guy recommended a package of moss starter. You spread this stuff and it grows into a moss lawn.
I applied it to the moss-free areas of my mossy lawn.
The moss starter didn’t go very far, however. So I ripped off some moss from a rocky outcropping and covered the remaining bare patches.
It looked very good. Like a real moss garden.
But the next day, my moss garden was in tatters. Marauding squirrels (or birds) had pulled at the transplanted moss, leaving it all askew like a bad toupee.
What’s worse, after a week or two, the moss-starter area started to exude copious amounts of clear slime.
It looked like the aftermath of a snail’s lost weekend.
That’s when I read the article about microclover. It made me curiously excited. Thrilled, even.
Microclover, microclover!
Ollie dashed over with his putrid squirrel to congratulate me. You know, I’ve got a really good feeling about this one.
