There are a couple of things I need to admit right up front. Before taking the CMG classes, I thought I knew a lot about gardening. My friends would ask me the name of plants, and most of the time, I could come up with a semi-accurate response. Now that I’m a Master Gardener (albeit apprentice), my friends ask me much harder questions. And I rarely know the answers. What I do know is how and where to find the answers, but why does that feel like cheating? When will I be able to rattle off a thoughtful, helpful, accurate answer like the real Master Gardeners? I think a better title for me would be “Master Gardener Wannabe Resource Specialist” – at least for now.
Before I took my Master Gardener courses, I would delight in a perfectly manicured perennial bed, well maintained lawn or lovely flowering vine. Now I find myself slamming on the brakes to ponder a semi-dead spruce or sick looking shrub, mesmerized by the 3 Ds: decay, disease, and death.
In my own yard, I try to practice applying all the knowledge I’ve been exposed to, but often end up a bit confused. For example: after examining the “annual wrinkles” on several branches of my maple tree, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s somewhere between 2 and 19 years old. Maybe next year, with more practice, I’ll be able to narrow that gap.
And bugs! Who knew? Thanks to Whitney, I now feel nothing but anguish for the wimpy little aphid that can’t even muster the strength to climb back onto a plant after being washed off. I envision my soil as a ruckus underworld – a mini Sturgis of sorts – where tiny organisms strut their stuff, behave wildly, and overindulge on rotten matter and wet aphids. I can almost hear them hooting and hollering.