Several years ago, before my mother passed away, she excitedly switched up her traditional grass for a trendy option: frass (fake grass/astro turf).
Not too many other people in Seal Beach had frass, but she was happy to be one of the first.
She had heard that not only was it cost effective, but it also maintained its beautiful looks all year round and didn’t need to be watered like its traditional predecessor.
I laughed at her.
I said that she was going to make her front yard look like a miniature golf hot spot. She assured me that after thinking long and hard about this purchase, frass was for her.
Never did I think that her frassy front yard would become mine, but after she passed away my family and I moved back into the house I had grown up in and I was able to experience the effects that frass has on the general public—at least the ones here in Seal Beach.
At all hours of the day people would stop by to admire this revolutionary option to what Mother Nature had previously offered.
They would come alone; they would come in pairs, just to check it out. Some would pose a quick question to their walking partners, “Is that fake grass?”
Others would immediately kneel down beside it and run their fingers through the smooth synthetic pieces.
From my bedroom window, I witnessed folks actually lay down on their backs and move their legs and arms up and down as if they were in the process of making frass angels.
I saw people smell it and attempt to pull it out by its roots. (I never saw anyone try to taste it, but even this would not surprise me.) Someone even tried to steal it!
The doorbell would ring and passersby who wanted to know the details about my mother’s frass: Who installed it? How much was it? How did I maintain it? Did I have to wash it?
At first I would tell people that these were questions that they would have to ask my mother, and since she was no longer with us I was afraid their questions would not be answered.
Of course there was my dad, but he left everything non-work related to the woman of the house.
Never would I have expected this to become such a phenomenon.
Instead of being star struck, my neighbors had become frass frenzied!
Regardless of political differences, I finally had found a conversational piece that I could have with my neighbors. I could have it at the post office and at the bank.
I could bring it up over a cup of coffee or a dish of ice cream.
So…if you are walking by, please feel free to feel my frass, but please remember the dog poop is real.
Stephanie Gonshak is a returned Seal Beach resident.
