Visit From a Master Gardener

A few weeks ago, on a Friday morning, I walked down to the end of town where a sign advertised a yard sale. I was the first customer, and a nice elderly woman was sitting in a lawn chair in the driveway. I recognized her as the Uniontown “tax collector,” the lady who collects our money to pay for the street lights. I picked out a few candles and a couple pounds of fresh asparagus from her garden. Of course, I noticed her garden, particularly her immense vegetable plot.

So after a little small talk I said to here, “C’mon, show me your garden,” and she was surprised but seemed happy to oblige. Turns out she is a “Master Gardener.” There is a program offered in the counties to become such a gardener; my friend and client from the evidently defunct Garden Chat blog took it, but it was too much of a time commitment for me. Anyway, we talked about the various things she was growing and the problems and successes, and she showed me her greenhouse (“got it used, you know, has to be historically authentic”…this is Uniontown, after all) and she offered me this and that kind of seedling which I politely declined, not knowing where I could put anything else in my mess of a yard. I did get excited about one plant, Nigella damascena, “Love in the Mist,” and happily took two small plants from her. Fortunately, I finally got around to planting them a few nights ago.

Fast forward to this past Saturday. I had finished mowing, and giving Trixie a bath, and was coming in to get Charlie for his bath only to find him barking at the front door. I didn’t know who it could be; I hadn’t seen any German cars parked in the driveway. Well, it was Mrs. Neighbor Master Gardener (do you like how we preserve anonymity here on the Double R Daily?) bringing me the brochure for the Carroll County program. We chatted on the porch for a minute, and then with a little trepidation I offered, “Do you want to see out back?” Her “of course” was enthusiastic.

I did a lot of apologizing for the mess, the 1/3-finished patio, etc., etc., and she did a good job of understanding. We looked over the perennial bed, which thank goodness was looking pretty good, and discussed the fig and the lily problems, and I showed her the vegetable patch. She was very enthusiastic about my tomatoes. ☺ Of course, I had to confess that my mother’s were better, but she still was full of compliments. So we talked about the different stuff we grow and the ways we like to fix and eat it and it was very nice. I heard about her husband and her son (who turns 50 this week), etc. As we were finishing up she observed, with a bit of skepticism in her tone, that she didn’t see a compost pile anywhere. So I pointed it (them!) out to her, way down the bottom of the yard, and thus passed the final test.

On the way out, as we chatted out front, I remembered to ask, “Hey, do you grow orchids?” And she said no, don’t they need special moisture, etc., etc., and I invited her into my quite messy house to see my one lone orchid and its 53 — yes that’s 53 — blooms. I think that sealed my status with her as a “serious” gardener.

It was so nice to get that orchid as a present last year, for no special reason at all. What a sweet gift it was, full of sweet memories now.