About yay big

I admit that I am perhaps an overly organized person. But boy, my gardening binder is a thing to behold. Its tidy three-inch wide self is separated into sections such as, “soil science”, “fruits and vegetables”, and “my garden plans”. Contained within each section are articles I’ve collected, information sheets from products I’ve purchased, multiple pencil-drawn plans of my dream garden, and homemade charts recording all kinds of minutiae. On the cover, serving to inspire, is a page torn from Organic Gardening magazine featuring a close up photo of carrots in all colors imaginable.

As a person addicted to research, my goal as a new gardener is to amass as much knowledge as possible, so I’ve read books, magazines, searched forums, and tapped my gardening friend for info. One early spring day, about three years ago, I wanted to know how much space I needed for a tomato plant. When I asked my experienced gardener friend how many inches wide it would get, I was not pleased when she extended her arms to make a large circle and said, “oh…about yay big.” Well. There’s no room to indicate “yay big” on the squares of my graph paper. I needed a number. Since her tip didn’t help me, I searched the Internet for the answer and learned that I not only needed to figure out how wide, but also how tall, that I needed to figure out how to stake the thing, and that there were determinate and indeterminate types, that there were heirlooms (what in the world is that?) that are generally taller, and so on. I also found an article about tomato pests and diseases and screamed when I clicked on “tomato hornworm” and an image popped onto my screen. As overwhelmed as I felt, I was also fascinated by the intricacies of growing a tomato plant.

After hours of living and breathing tomato research, I realized what a determinate – I mean determined person I was, and felt thoroughly informed and proud of myself. I had taken copious notes and printed off sufficient information. I was ready to finish planning and move on. Fast forward to my third season of growing tomatoes. Lesson learned is that gardening experience itself provides a knowledge that is so much easier to store in my head than within the rings of my gardening binder. I still consider myself a newbie gardener in that I’ve only had enough seasons under the summer sun to try three out of about 20 different ways to stake a tomato. However, at this point, I have the experience enough to know that if a first-season gardener were to ask me how wide a tomato plant is, I could easily access my notes under the “fruits and vegetables” tab in my binder for a number to pass along, or I could simply hold up my arms in a wide circle and say, “oh…about yay big”.

In my dreams, I am a landscape architect...

By day, I help a team of people involved with students on my caseload solve all kinds of problems. What colleges might be appropriate for my daughter? How can I get my son to care about chemistry? This student has been skipping my English class. Can you give me some community resources to help support this student?

But by night, in my dreams, I help people solve problems of another sort. My yard is shady, what plants would work? My house sits on the edge of a hill, what kind of landscaping is possible? I want to build a naturalistic water feature, can you help? In my dreams, on my head is a khaki canvas hat and I often wear the "Plant Whisperer" shirt my sister bought me for my birthday. It usually gets a laugh from my clients. In my dreams, I know the answers to my clients' problems. I look around and observe the amount of sun at the site. I ask what color combinations he likes. I ask if fragrance is important. I measure the area with my 200 feet measuring tape and take notes. I survey the landscape and consider erosion, seasonal changes, and call my contacts in local conservation offices about the water table or any possible flooding issues. I bring some samples of stone. It takes me about 4 days to excitedly draw up plans I know my clients will be thrilled with. I call in the team to put the plan into action. But I'm not the boss who walks around in heels telling people what to do, oh no. I have my leather work gloves flapping in my back pocket, I got the sunscreen on, and I'm down and dirty with my team. When the job is done, the water feature is amazingly creative - an enigma in that it's peaceful, yet energizing. The hill is breathtaking. My client never thought it would be possible enjoy a garden ON the steep hill! Everyone is happy and the world is that much more beautiful. I'm one good freakin' landscape architect. Geez, I can't believe I actually get paid for this!