My parents never had a deck. There was a covered front porch for sitting on, in the cool of the evening. And in the back yard, shaded by two pine trees, was a picnic table. At any time, there were folding aluminum chairs, and a lounge chair for sunning somewhere in the lawn.
So they never sprayed fungus/mold eradicating cleaners, power washed, sanded, and sealed a fucking deck. (A deck that has been chewed by every critter in these woods, and will likely fall down with no warning someday, right after we’ve fired up the grill, and poured ourselves a drink.)
They were smart people, my parents.