Each year, Americans spend more than $30 billion on lawn care, applying over 65 million pounds of lawn chemicals.

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Becca del Monte

For every 100 gallons of water consumed in the home, we pour 30 to 60 on our lawns. And gas-powered lawnmowers emit 10 to 12 times as much carbon per hour of operation as automobiles.

But Americans are also famous for prioritizing convenience and cutting high-maintenance activities from their lifestyles — think fast food, sound bytes and Internet shopping.

With our luxuriant green suburban dreams having such an impact on the environment and our wallets, why not transfer these American ethics to the front yard?

It’s not a small problem. Today, lawn grasses are the largest irrigated crop group in the country. America’s lawns cover 32 million square acres, nearly 2 percent of the country, according to satellite-based research published in 2005 by the University of Montana’s Cristina Milesi.

Most Americans want to live in a single-family home in the suburbs, complete with a garage and green lawn, according to a survey of new homeowners conducted by Century 21. How did this homey slice of suburbia — the lawn part, at least — become such a pervasive element of the American ideal?

American lawns date back to the 1600s, when wealthy colonists tried to recreate European formal gardens using American foliage. Such attempts failed miserably. Aristocrats relocating to the New World brought along their gardeners, only to find that native plants couldn’t be made to grow the perfectly green carpets they wanted in order to showcase their new estates. So they “solved” the problem by importing European plant species, which had to be generously watered in America’s hotter, drier climate.

Most settlers couldn’t afford to maintain unproductive land, but the big green lawn became engrained in the American psyche as an important status symbol.

In the 1800s and early 1900s, verdant lawns remained the property of the American aristocracy. Large lawns and artful gardens were popular on antebellum plantations. Sprawling lawns characterized the estates of robber baron families, like the Vanderbilts and Rockefellers. Hearst Castle in Big Sur boasts one of the largest.

The idea of a lawn for every household only emerged in the 1950s when planned developments gave the growing middle class an amenity usually reserved for the rich. Most lawn acreage today is concentrated in cooler and more humid Eastern states, but the West and Southwest host their share of lush lawns — even though the natural landscape is blatantly unsuited for grassy, manicured perfection.

Indeed, thanks to the transplanting experiments of European gardening aficionados, the ubiquitous American lawn rarely features native plants adapted to local microclimatic conditions. Our artificial oases must be sustained with pesticide spraying, copious watering and frequent mowing.

So what’s the alternative?

Lawns not regularly treated with chemicals will regain natural populations of soil invertebrates and microorganisms. Planting native species and mixing grasses with other types of ground cover encourage a suite of lawn plants that is more resilient to invasive weeds, is far more drought-tolerant and won’t require weekly mowing. And these actions increase the chances of providing habitats — albeit on a small scale — for native and migrating animals, who could definitely use the help.

Another idea is xeriscaping, in which plant species appropriate for local conditions are organized in an artful way that also minimizes watering. The practice already has a following among lawn enthusiasts switching to environmentally friendly yard care, those worrying about health effects from pesticides and homeowners wanting to reduce the amount of time and money spent on their lawns.

Still, a great deal of effort remains to defeat one of the most pervasive myths in American culture. The next time you spot an oasis of green on campus or eye a suburban mini-paradise, just remember: that “green” lawn is really anything but.

Contact KT Mertes at kmertes@stanford.edu.