When I graduated high school at sixteen, I was not ready for college. I found a job cashiering at a local retail nursery chain. I soon became enthralled with all things that involved plants and I learned every botanical name to be able to ring-up plant orders that came to me. After five years of tending to the registers, I applied for a manager position at a small specialty nursery where I was hired to do everything except cashier: watering, creating handwritten signs for plants, helping customers find rare and unusual perennials, and maintaining the demonstration garden at the front of the store. I had no employees under me and I did all the buying, selling, sweeping, and pruning. The Sunset Western Garden Book (the one with the hand drawn pictures) use to be my daily guidebook. It was the best job, and to have such an opportunity as a 21 year old is something I carry with me to this day.

I moved on from this perfect work-life to go to university and ended up decades later with a Ph.D in history, various teaching jobs, and a garden space of my own. I still have plant errata in my head that has faded quite a bit (monocotyledon = one seed leaf; grasses?). Sometimes, I will look at a tree and say to myself, “You’re a Cinnamomum something.” The rest of its botanical name remains in the ashes of my memory. But I know you are a water hog and don’t want mulch around your trunk.” While I miss parts of nursery work (the routines, the plant tending, and the 5-day work week), I remain forever grateful to notice the plants that are still in my life, when I am not teaching and writing history.