Master Gardener Stories

So Good To Be Green

By Kazia Wilson, Class of 2024

(2024)

As I watered the woodland garden at Pinto Lake under the hot June sun, a familiar friend waved up at me with long, bladed, green leaves.  “Welcome,” it seemed to say, not only to me, but to the newly transplanted native it was growing up next to.  The vivid emerald of its leaves celebrated the now ample water and morning sunlight.  A honey bee alighted on the brown, seeded flower stock as I moved on to water the next new transplant.  I made a mental note to harvest the plantain…I mean…pull up the weed…once I had finished watering.

“The simplest definition of a weed is a plant growing where it is not wanted…” (California Master Gardener Handbook, p.200)  This plantain, pushing up through the new mulch, was indeed growing where it was not wanted.  Classification: weed…and yet… 

In a UCANR article entitled, “Intriguing World of Weeds,” author Larry W. Mitich writes that, “plantain was used as a healing agent for centuries.  Southern Europeans placed plantain poultices on scorpion stings and snake bites…[and] farmers used plantain to treat severe cuts from scythe and sickle at harvest time.”  Even Shakespeare, in Romeo and Juliet (1592), “refers to it as a familiar household cure-all.” (https://ucanr.edu/repository/fileaccess.cfm?article=167413&p=LBLRMK)

As I contemplated all I know about plantain from my own education and experience with herbs, I could not help but view this little specimen in a positive light despite its obvious intrusion. I imagined that the plantain was honoring the arrival of these new plants and had come over to say hello and maybe even offer some secret gifts only understood between neighbors in the plant kingdom.

As my philosophic mind meandered, I found myself considering the welcoming support offered to me, a very recent transplant into the program, by my fellow master gardeners. 

When I first thunked the handbook down on my desk, I had weighty doubts about finishing the reading, much less the training and volunteer work. Was it really worth the time?  

Of course, I wanted to become an expert gardener, but as I stared at the dictionary-sized tome, I suddenly realized that all I really needed to do was water more. That was it. All my garden problems were solved.  Who needed six months of classes? I could always use the handbook as a door stop.

But alas, I had been accepted into the program and I was going to follow in my Grandma’s footsteps and become a master gardener even if I’d have to wake up at six a.m. on Saturdays to do it. I will admit my determination wavered as I shivered my way out of bed the first morning of class. Loaded down with a half gallon jug of hot tea, a basket of fruit, a gift for the raffle, my book bag, and my lunch box, I got into my car and went.  

Three steps into the classroom and I knew I had been planted among friends. It wasn’t long before Saturdays became my favorite day of the week. My notebook began filling up with strange facts like “humans are related to fruit flies, poison fish, and amoeba,” and “the whole surface of the Earth was once covered in fungi as tall as skyscrapers.”  

Each day, I left class eager to share what I had learned with my sister, my husband, my cat… 

Visions of French drains, water catchment systems, and bioswales occupied my thoughts.  I found myself musing over the nefarious interactions of insects (a topic I do not wish to revisit here…ewww…) and marveling at how truly wonderful it is that spiders do not, in fact, have wings. 

As June drew nearer, my attention shifted to group projects, the final exam, our graduation party, and just how to spend all that glorious raffle money.  Through all that was going on, I felt the end coming. Oh, how I would miss seeing all my new friends together every Saturday.  

What we learned in class was worth every dollar and every minute. To be dug in with each of these unique and beautiful plant-people is priceless.

I do not know whether that emerald green plantain was welcoming the newly planted native or offering some form of symbiotic support, but I do know its shimmying leaves made me smile with gratitude for the nurturing support showered upon me this year.  

From the volunteers who made the class of 2024 so enjoyable, to my fellow classmates who brought the laughter, curiosity, and brilliance, to the veterans who continue to champion me as I try new volunteer projects, I am so grateful to find myself planted in with all of you.  

It is a rare and beautiful gift to find a space that encourages growth, to be around people who get excited about plants as much as I do, and to be able to support one another in our better world work efforts. In celebration of all you have done for us, the class of 2024, and of all we have yet to do together, here’s a big, dancing, emerald green thank you!