The Grass is Not Greener in my Yard

I want to get rid of all the grass in the front yard. Richard, my husband, does not agree with me. 

My husband, Richard

I don't see the upside of grass lawns. Unless you are a ruminant (a cud-chewing animal), you can't eat grass. It smells pleasant, but its scent is fleeting. Today's lawn craze requires a monoculture of this pretty useless plant without the inclusion of co-planting in the form of white clovers that would supply nitrogen for the lawn. An attractive grass lawn demands babying -- fertilizer, weed killer, mowing, reseeding. 

I read somewhere that the desire for a green grass lawn is a throwback to early humans feeling more comfortable if there were no trees in their domain for predators to hide behind. I don't buy this because landscaping incorporates plenty of bushes and trees for predators to hide behind. I myself think that the fanaticism for perfect green lawns, now with their perfect cross-hatching mowing patterns, has to do with what preeminent Victorian economist Thorstein Veblen called conspicuous consumption.

Conspicuous consumption refers to spending money in a way that shows that one has money. Perfect lawns are a perfect example of this -- they require a lot of monetary outlay and a lot of time investment. It helps to be able to hire a groundskeeper to get that verdant sheen without any dandelions marring the perfection.  

I could live without a typical grass lawn with all its high-maintenance needs. When the dandelions pop in our yard, I don't think of digging them up unless I want to roast their roots for Beau Monde style coffee (aka chicory coffee, as dandelions are a close relative). I fantasize about a lawn full of clover with its little white blossoms or edible lawn daisies, or a slope of camomile and pavers surrounded with scented thymes. Or maybe just expanding my edible landscaping until there's no lawn.

For which I'd have to hire a landscaper and participate in my own form of conspicuous consumption.