Photo by Christine Barnes, The Northfield News Create a garden out of lawn space, make it easier on the planet, and have a feast for your eyes. There's nothing like the smell of newly-mown grass. And mowing makes everything look so fresh and cared for. From May through October, this semi-weekly process really gets into some people's blood. So if you are a big grass-cutting fan, read no further. And whatever you do, do not let my husband see this article.

Mowing lawns stretches back in my mind's eye to the days when I was 9 or so. I used a push-mower around our modest yard and felt proud of my work. We never had a power mower - there was always a little green patch of grass, useful for cartwheels and handstands and finding 4-leaf clovers - but the woods were close and cozy to the houses I grew up in - so there was no need.

Years later, power mowers became affordable and lighter weight, and in my adult years, part of the family. And lawns got bigger. Then you could sit on a mower and ride around with a lemonade in hand. And lawns got bigger still. Now, here's my scheme: make a garden, instead.

Christine Barnes is a resident of Northfield and a Master Gardener. Vermont Master Gardener information: 1-800-639-2230. Take a length of hose and use it to make an interesting shape on the lawn. Put it in the center of the lawn, or on the side, up against the woods, or the house. Start small, because what happens next is a lot of work, but it's worth it. Take a shovel and begin to cut and lift the sod from the shape you designed. A 12x12" section of sod is heavy, and plenty to handle. Flip it over, and with the edge of the shovel, whack off the good soil (and some of the weight). Repeat ad nauseum. This is hard work. I have stock in Ibuprofen for a good reason.

No doubt the Ice Age, in its death throes, crept into Northfield, and deposited all of the rocks and rubble from the rest of the Universe exactly where you have made your shape for your intended garden. Use the bucket to collect the rocks, and set them aside temporarily. Persist. What may be hours, or even days later, your shape is visible, in dirt. Tweak it to get the shape just the way you want it. Make the edge neat, and help it stay that way with plastic edging available at local hardware and garden stores.

I swear by good soil preparation. It's a family legacy. For the clay in Northfield, sand helps prevent clumping. Peat moss helps, too, and so do Vermont products from Vermont cows, and compost, as well. I use copious amounts of each of these: for example, one 3 cu. ft. bale of peat moss, four 50 lb. bags of sand, 4 bags composted cow manure - for a garden approximately 12 x 12'. I dig, and turn, and toss, and diganturnantoss, and do it some more until the lumpy rockclumped clay is soft and about 10 inches deep with forgiveness.

Now comes the fun part. Play with the space. Change the contours. Stack the rocks. Add a funky birdbath. Plant a tree. Start flowers from seed. Take a trip to a local greenhouse. Beg plants from your neighbors' gardens. A word about the latter: my garden is full of friends and family. I know who gave me this plant or that one. I have a phlox from my mother's garden that I have kept with me every place I have made a home since her death in 1983. I remember her every time I walk by. My two sisters are here with me, too.

Mulch the garden for weed control and moisture retention over the hot summer ahead. That's perfection.

Now here's the subversive part: my husband loves the lawn, and he loves flowers, as well. So each year I take one or two of my several garden shapes, and I expand them - maybe just a few feet, although some I've even doubled in size. This works because of scale: for example, the tree is two years old, and commands more space; the perennials are full and robust and can be divided; friends give you some plants from their gardens. So now, there's even less lawn to mow, and even more beautiful flowers to grace the yard and tease the eyes. I think he has noticed, but he hasn't filed yet.

Instead of the intruding roar of the lawn mower, I am at peace. I think of family and friends, the Red Sox, what I'm going to tell you in this article. I feel the kiss of the sun, the gentle spring rain, the annoying whine of a mosquito honing in on my neck. I listen for the bluebird who charms the spring with its sweet warble.

I know I created something beautiful, with less stress on the planet. No fossil fuels, no carbon emissions, no noise pollution, no nitrogen runoff into our beautiful streams and rivers. I hear the neighbor's children laughing in the rain shower. The clouds disperse and I watch the garter snake family as they take a sunbath on the rock. Later, I'll pick a bouquet for the house and enjoy the garden inside, as well.