In Defense of the Gardening Greenhorn: A Public Plea to the Experts




Charlie and Rosie exchanging views on landscape design.


How time flies! It was almost exactly six (!) years ago when the good folks at GardenRant allowed me to share my Guest Rant “No Bad Yards.” Now I’m back again in defense of all the inexperienced or unlucky gardening greenhorns out there who suffer the sneers of their gardening betters -- whether professional or amateur -- if they dare to ask for advice.

First of all, let me say to you, the educated, the professional, the successful: I get it. You spent years of school and/or professional work becoming the expert you are, and people literally pay you to impart your knowledge to them. I see the injustice of strangers asking you to “give it away for free,” and certainly the nuisance factor this must involve. As a recent column on GardenRant pointed out, you wouldn’t expect a dermatologist or a stock broker or a lawyer to just shell out free advice in the grocery checkout line. Why would you expect free service from a landscape designer or a horticultural specialist?

OR maybe you are not a professional, but a highly skilled home gardener, a member in long standing of your local garden club, a prize-winning grower of roses, with a beautifully landscaped yard that is the culmination of years of your hard labor. When your neighbor, whose biggest horticultural success is a window box of marigolds, asks you how he can make his garden beautiful like yours, you grit your teeth in what you hope is a tolerant smile and airily respond with “Oh, it’s nothing!” Or perhaps you go into a lecture on design concepts and lifestyle needs and “the right plants,” all the while screaming internally, “How the hell do you think? You think this comes easy? I learned and I WORKED!”

To you all, I say: I understand. I honor your expertise and your pride in your accomplishments.

But let me advocate for a little understanding -- and patience -- for those of us who lack your gifts and skills.

Why do we in the gardening bush league (ha!) have the chutzpah to ask you for free advice? I suspect it’s because, in our community, free advice is the norm. Whether it’s our neighbors, our parents, our friends, or even our Facebook friends, part of the joy we gain from gardening is the sharing—of wisdom, of solutions, of rabbit deterrents, even of plants. I think it’s not surprising that, when we encounter an actual expert in the wild, we are likely to naturally treat you as part of our community and bubble over with questions, delighted that we have met someone who KNOWS!

I understand this doesn’t describe everyone. There are, I am sure, plenty of folks out there who want you to stop whatever you’re doing and give them a simple 1-2-3 solution to transforming their vacant lot into Kew Gardens, and won’t take no for an answer. That kind of entitlement doesn’t deserve your attention, and I can understand responding joyfully with a snarky response that puts them in their place. As a regular ranter rightfully pointed out, landscape design is much more complex that most people imagine.

But most of us are not asking for help in defining outdoor spaces to meet our lifestyle needs. We don’t have “design intentions.” No, we just want to know what kind of shrub might look good framing our front door. We don’t need or want a sermon on how foundation planting is passé or based on outdated needs. We just want a shrubbery that looks nice. And is not too expensive. (Apologies to Monty Python.)

This is why I can’t help but rail when I read columns recounting how the authors have chided and derided us bush leaguers, usually under the guise of humor. I’ve been called oversensitive and judgmental for my reactions, but my goal is not to judge but to enlighten. I accept the explanation that these humor columns are not intended to be mean-spirited. And as a professional editor, I will always support the authors’ right to write them.

But I would merely ask the authors to think carefully of the intent of their written pieces, and consider the consequences -- intentional or not – of publicly mocking those who dare to lack your expertise, whether in writing or in public. Do you think you encourage new gardeners with your eye-rolling, or do you demoralize them by laughing at their ignorance and inexperience? Are novices more or less likely to seek out information or assistance when the gatekeepers of gardening wisdom seem to hold them in contempt?

If I were a younger, newer gardener myself, some of these columns would make me consider giving up entirely and leaving the garden to the professionals. Luckily, I’ve had my real-life mentors to encourage me all along, and so for almost 20 years, gardening has been my hobby, my therapy, my joy. I’ve never had professional landscape advice. To a pro’s eye, I have no idea if my yard is a specimen or an eyesore. But to me, it’s my little paradise -- ant hills, quack grass, and all. My neighbor’s yard, front and back, is beautifully, professional designed, landscaped, and maintained—but I honestly would not trade their showcase for my uneven, weedy, irregular, constantly-under-revision yard. And I notice that they seem to be out enjoying their space much less frequently that we do ours.

In conclusion, can’t we all just be nice to each other? Certainly, you are not obligated to play mentor to anyone who approaches you, no matter how politely. Still, is it any harder to respond kindly with an “I’m sorry, I can’t help you, but have you tried [the Master Gardeners] [the local garden club] [this nice gentleman who works here at the nursery]; they have great advice on just this subject”? Then afterwards, you can enjoy a cocktail with a friend and laugh at the woman who can’t grow zucchini (that would be me) to your heart’s content.

Anyway, now that I’ve had MY rant, it’s time to pick some mint, make a mojito, and ponder the great mystery of why I remain incapable of growing zucchini.

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