As the fragrance of charcoal lighter is the summer's signature perfume, the season's keynote is the sound of the lawn mower.  Each weekend, an army of mowers is deployed to subdue the turf.  Battalions of edgers, clippers and weed whackers provide back-up support, and the air is alive with the whir, hum and buzz of millions of tiny blades of grass being mechanically decapitated.

Most of us don't consciously acquire a lawn.  What we set out to acquire is a house, forgetting that along with the American dream comes the American nightmare of a troublesome expanse of worthless vegetation that will dominate our leisure hours during the summer months.  In fact, obtaining a lawn is a lot like having a baby or installing an in-ground swimming pool.  Once you've got it, you have to take care of it for the foreseeable forever, which is usually a good deal longer than it takes for the novelty to wear off.

Lawn maintenance is clearly one of the more curious aspects of human behavior.  It's obvious that if we were to plow the crab grass under and plant potatoes in the front yard it would be a better use of the space, yet still the otherwise intelligent among us persist in mowing and clipping, watering and weeding.

This necessity to maintain areas of short grass around our homes has been explained by some as a vestigial need arising from our aboriginal past in the savannas of Africa.  Supposedly it has something to do with being able to see our enemies coming.  I take this to mean that subconsciously we're afraid that, if we let our front lawns grow, IRS agents could hide in the tall grass and sneak up on us while we're sitting in our living rooms drinking iced tea and watching reality TV.

Whatever the reason, we are given to squandering substantial amounts of time, energy and even money, all for the sake of growing something we can't eat, can't sell, can't trade on the world market and can't even roller-skate on.

Even more curious than the need to maintain short vegetation around our homes is our penchant for maintaining only certain kinds of short vegetation, silently seeking out and destroying all others, regardless of their height.  Some homeowners dive into the trenches and attack the weeds one-on-one with hand tools.  Others farm out the dirty work and hire professional assassins armed with chemical weapons.  (It would be an improvement if we could learn to recognize crab grass as inevitable and make wine from the dandelions.  Acceptance is the key to better mental health...)

As for alternatives to cutting the grass, consider these alternatives to growing the grass, most of which have been developed over the years in Tucson, Arizona.  Although, I'm sorry to say, there is still plenty of grass grown in Tucson with an attendant squandering of water, really sensible desert dwellers cover their front yards with indoor-outdoor carpeting of a verdant hue.  Green gravel is another favorite, often artistically interspersed with cacti.  I suppose stones would work, too, but my vote goes to concrete.

Even if you don't live in Tucson (which I presume, since you are reading this, that you do not), why not pave the front yard?  Pave it and paint it green if you like.  It will never need mowing or clipping, watering or weeding.  You won't have to dump poisons on it and it will always look tidy.  You still won't be able to eat it or sell it, but at least you can roller-skate on it.  And you'll still be able to see the IRS agents sneaking up on you.