Buffalo Grass, won't you come out tonight?

At the risk of sounding trendy, I want to report on an experiment I’m trying. 
My concern about being perceived as trendy is that your perception of what I’m trying to do will get lost in the current political debate about “green” issues, inspired, in part, by our nation’s concerns over possible global warming and further by the rising cost of energy.
Gentle Reader, I know some of you believe there is no such thing as Global Warming, while some of you believe the End Draweth Nigh.   This experiment is not about that debate.  
Nor is it about the rising cost of gasoline, or the big debate about how buying gasoline helps fund distant governments violently opposed to our cherished principles.  This experiment is not about that debate, either.
This experiment is about my lawn.  
Like most folks, I have this image in my mind about what a lawn should look like: it should look like a park with rolling meadows of green, framed by borders of shrubs and trees.  
Unfortunately, several natural forces are pitted against this daydream. 
First, of course, is the fact that our house sits on the side of a hill, a sloped spot where no soil can be found.  Each yard of soil on our lot was brought in by hand by me, one wheelbarrow at a time.   Our yard, when we moved into the house, was a shelf of scraped caliche punctuated with exclamations of bull thistles.   In an effort to make the house more attractive to buyers, someone had thrown squares of sod on a portion of the yard, but by the time we moved into the house, the baked remnants of St. Augustine grass once thriving in the squares were fossilized.
The second problem is our local climate.  For those new to the area, the recent rains are not common.  In fact, during last summer’s prolonged lapse between rains, in the spirit of good citizenship, I stopped watering my lawn.   The backyard, where our dogs live,  became a caldron of dust.    All of the Bermuda grass I’d planted died away and weeds somehow took its place.
For those who know Ms. Carolyn, this will not surprise you: she was not in favor of a weedy yard.  In fact, she was quite vocal in her opposition to such a yard.
For my part it seemed futile to replant the backyard in Bermuda, given its performance during last summer’s heat.
So, then, the experiment: I’ve planted the backyard in Buffalo grass (Buchloe dactyloides), a variety noted for its drought tolerance.   It also has an added, unexpected benefit: the blades don’t grow very tall, meaning, hopefully, I won’t have to mow the yard as often, if ever.
Getting the yard ready took some effort.  I completely tilled the area for the experiment, waited a few weeks, attacked the weeds that had survived their tumbling with a herbicide, and then, a few weeks later, tilled the whole area again.
I got the Buffalo grass seed from Wildseed Farms, a client in Fredericksburg, and chose, on their recommendation, their “Top Gun” variety.  A friend of mine there advised me to rake in the seeds to a depth of about a quarter inch, which I did last Saturday.
Then, of course, came almost a week of rainy days, some of the rains quite hard.  I’ve checked the backyard several times and I think some of the seed remains in my yard (I was concerned it had washed away as a gift to my down-hill neighbors). 
So far I haven’t seen much in the way of sprouts, but in truth we’ve only had one day of sunshine since the seeds were planted.
I’m hoping the experiment works back there – if it’s successful I’ll repeat the experiment next year in the front yard.   I’d certainly like a yard that was both pretty and better-suited to our climate.
As for the part about not having to mow my yard, it’s not the price of gas that motivates me or the effects of internal-combustion engines on our climate.   I’d rather rest in my hammock than mow.   It’s laziness that motivates me.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who bought a cheap white rope hammock on impulse several years ago.  It was some of the best money he ever spent.