Anyone who has spent a significant time in the West knows that water is a big deal. Denver sits on the high plains; our semi-arid landscape is better suited for tumbleweeds and blonde prairie grasses than green lawns and towering cottonwoods. I imagine there are parts of this state where guns have been pulled over water rights, because out 'chere in the West, water equals money.
In 2002, Colorado was hit by an extraordinary drought, evidenced by sweeping wild fires that left people homeless and the whole state on edge. You could see the smoke in the haze on the horizon and the mood of the state darkened as lawns grew brighter bleached yellow by the sun.
Lackadaisacal famers, we allowed our grass to wither and die over several seasons. Mitch attempted valliantly to ressurect it one spring with an elaborate seeding/blanket system that sprouted a few Rogaine-inspired tufts, but it still looked like hell. You could almost hear the neighbors whispering about the state of our yard.
Two years ago while I was flailing about at a yoga workshop, Mitch started ripping out our grass with a pick ax. I came home to find the front yard partially denuded. I wasn't delighted, as I recall, though Mitch had announced his intentions, but he seemed to be grooving on the alpha-maleness of the whole thing and yard was clearly a blight. He persisted throughout the summer in spite of my grumbling and soon we were spreading landscape fabric, rock and wood chips in lieu of seed.
The yard went from this:
To this:
The "after" photo is old. We have since planted more goodies, and have yet more to go. Most of the plants are xeric, meaning they require very low water. There's no mowing, except for a tiny greensward in the back that I hack away at with a push mower for about 10 minutes. I'll post a more recent photo when the light is better.
Though the last couple of years have been good to our mountains in terms of snowfall, we must still be mindful of our precious liquid resource. Our population is expanding and if we all want to take showers, flush toliets and water a few tomatoes, we need to realize that brown may be the new green.
Climbing down off my soapbox...
So felting...Our washing machine is coming up on the ripe old age of 16. It's a top loader, perfect for felting, but a water hog. Top loaders use between 15 and 22 fewer gallons of water. And eventually Mr. Maytag may have to go to the nice alley recycler in the sky.
Question: Can you felt with a top loader and, if so, how? Are there greener ways to felt?
Addendum: If you live in the Denver metroplex, you might qualify for a rebate if you buy a water-conserving washer.