There are city slickers who pay thousands to have some exotic twig planted in their commercially manicured yard. And there are southwestern dudes who agonize over trying to get anything at all, even remotely green, to artificially grow in their patch of dessert.
Here in the foothills of the Berkshires where rainfall is more than plentiful, maple trees grow wild, choking out lawns and spare lots. Forests have completely overgrown what were 19th century farms. It is not uncommon during a walk in the deep woods to come across a rusty hundred year old plow.
Some of you no doubt require anal PC regulations about ungentlemanly behavior toward branches. Here, I require $500 worth of men with chainsaws every few years to beat them back and haul them away, lest the lawn vanish entirely.