My grandpa apparently went to war with the municipal council over his unmown meadow. Had a decent piece of land with wild flowers and grasses and all that. The story was told to me second-hand about 15 years ago and is at least 30-40 years old, but if I got it right, he mowed that land once per year in fall.

The council wasn't happy with that, because he was supposed to mowed it twice per year, once in spring. Grandpa refused to cut down the flowers in their bloom, both because of all the things living in and off that and because pretty. Stern letter, discussions in person, deadline was set and went by. All the while, the "unkempt" non-lawn grew.

Eventually council imposed a fine. Obviously, a fine is supposed to compel a change in behaviour, but they couldn't set deadlines tight enough or the initial fine high enough to actually hurt him, so he just paid his "fuck your lawns" fee year by year.

I believe they gave up at some point, but I'm not sure whether that's just wishful thinking. In any case, that meadow was still growing wild and free when I was old enough to assist in the yearly mowing, long after his death.

Obviously, we can't all afford to stick it to the local bean counters that stubbornly, but it's nice to dream sometimes.

Yeah the tree:land ratio of my back garden is highly in favour of the trees. Every autumn the entire area gets coated in a thick layer of sycamore leaves that can easily take a year to decompose even in a compost pile. I rake that shit into piles over my flowerbeds for the winter, then into the compost during the spring. I would mow them but it's the UK so it's rare to find an autumn day where the leaves aren't too wet and soggy.

Oh no! Are there completely harmless animals outside?! How scary!