Ms. Renkl is a contributing Opinion writer who covers flora, fauna, politics and culture in the American South.
NASHVILLE
— Into these perfect October afternoons, when light gleams on the red
dogwood berries and the blue arrowwood berries and the purple
beautyberries; on the last of the many-colored zinnias and the last of
the yellow marigolds and the last of the white snakeroot flowers; on the
shining hair of babies in strollers and the shining ponytails of young
mothers and the tender, shining heads of old men walking dogs — into the
midst of all this beauty, the kind of beauty that makes despair seem
like only a figment of the midnight imagination, the monsters arrive.
They
come in a deafening, surging swarm, blasting from lawn to lawn and
filling the air with the stench of gasoline and death. I would call them
mechanical locusts, descending upon every patch of gold in the
neighborhood the way the grasshoppers of old would arrive, in numbers so
great they darkened the sky, to lay bare a cornfield in minutes. But
that comparison is unfair to locusts.
Grasshoppers
belong here. Gasoline-powered leaf blowers are invaders, the most
maddening of all the maddening, environment-destroying tools of the
American lawn-care industry.
Nearly
everything about how Americans “care” for their lawns is deadly.
Pesticides prevent wildflower seeds from germinating and poison the
insects that feed songbirds and other wildlife. Lawn mower blades, set
too low, chop into bits the snakes and turtles and baby rabbits that
can’t get away in time. Mulch, piled too deep, smothers ground-nesting
bees, and often the very plants that mulch is supposed to protect, as well.
This particular environmental catastrophe is not news. A 2011 study by Edmunds
found that a two-stroke gasoline-powered leaf blower spewed out more
pollution than a 6,200-pound Ford F-150 SVT Raptor pickup truck. Jason
Kavanagh, the engineering editor at Edmunds at the time, noted that
“hydrocarbon emissions from a half-hour of yard work with the two-stroke
leaf blower are about the same as a 3,900-mile drive from Texas to
Alaska in a Raptor.”
The two-stroke
engine found in most consumer gas-powered leaf blowers is an outmoded
technology. Unlike larger, heavier engines, a two-stroke engine combines
oil and gas in a single chamber, which gives the machine more power
while remaining light enough to carry. That design also means that it is
very loud, and that as much as a third of the fuel is spewed into the
air as unburned aerosol.
How loud?
“Some produce more than 100 decibels of low-frequency, wall-penetrating
sound — or as much noise as a plane taking off — at levels that can
cause tinnitus and hearing loss with long exposure,” Monica Cardoza wrote for Audubon Magazine this year.
In his Oct. 2 newsletter, the writer James Fallows summarized the emissions problem
this way: “Using a two-stroke engine is like heating your house with an
open pit fire in the living room — and chopping down your trees to keep
it going, and trying to whoosh away the fetid black smoke before your
children are poisoned by it.”
As
Mr. Fallows’s last point suggests, what’s bad for the environment is
bad for humans, too — most menacingly, of course, for the employees of
landscape services, who are exposed to these dangers all day long.
The risks come not only from the noise and the chemical emissions
that two-stroke engines produce, but also from the dust they stir up.
“That dust can contain pollen, mold, animal feces, heavy metals and
chemicals from herbicides and pesticides,” notes Sara Peach of Yale Climate Connections. All this adds up to increased risk of lung cancer, asthma, cardiovascular disease, premature birth and other life-threatening conditions.
Only
the Environmental Protection Agency can set emission standards. But
California, owing to its unique climate and geography, which allow
airborne pollutants to coalesce and linger, is the exception to this federal limitation.
Other states can opt to follow California’s more stringent tailpipe
emissions standards, as 12 states and the District of Columbia do.
Thanks in part to those standards, the passenger vehicles on
California’s roads and highways collectively produce less pollution than
off-road machinery does. Think about that for a minute: Lawn-care equipment creates more pollution in California than cars do.
But the trouble with leaf blowers isn’t only their pollution-spewing health consequences. It’s also the damage they do to biodiversity.
Fallen leaves provide protection for overwintering insects and the egg
sacs of others. Leaf blowers, whether electric or gasoline-powered,
dislodge the leaf litter that is so essential to insect life — the
insect life that in turn is so essential to birds and other wildlife.
The
ideal fertilizer and mulch can’t be found in your local garden center.
They are available at no cost in the form of a tree’s own leaves. The
best thing to do with fallen leaves is to mulch them with a lawn mower
if your lawn consists of entirely of unvariegated turf grass (which it
should not, given that turf grass requires immense amounts of water and poison to maintain).
Our yard is a mixture of grasses and clovers and wildflowers, so we can
safely let our leaves lie. If a high wind carries them away, it’s hard
not to wail, “Wait! I was saving those!”
And
the leaves that fall across every inch of this wild half acre of
suburbia are so much prettier than any unnaturally green lawn beaten
into submission by stench-spewing machinery. All those golden sugar
maple leaves hold onto the light, and for weeks it looks as though our
whole yard is on fire, even in the rain. Who could be troubled by a
blanket made of light? A blanket keeping all the little creatures safe
from the cold?
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