Garden Detective

I just received a disturbing email from the Cornell Cooperative Extension, through which I trained to become a master gardener:

Dear Master Gardener: As the county budget situation worsens, Cornell Cooperative Extension of Nassau County now faces total elimination. This was made public in yesterday's and other recent Newsday articles outlining County Executive Suozzi's proposals for severe additional cuts to this year's county budget. This would mean that all of our association's programs and services including community nutrition, environmental horticulture, and 4-H Youth Development would cease to exist after serving as a partner with county government in improving the lives of Nassau residents since 1914. This also means that the 4-H Camp, which will operate for the 2009 season, would cease to exist in 2010. Cornell Cooperative Extension of Nassau County, in accordance with our relationship to the statewide Cornell Cooperative Extension system, must receive county funding in order to exist as a county Extension association. I thank you for making it a priority to contact Mr. Suozzi today. The timeliness of your response is crucial in this time of crisis.

For those who want their voice heard, here's the contact information for County Executive Suozzi:

Phone: 516-571-3131
Fax: 571-4000
tsuozzi@nassaucountyny.gov

Ever think about becoming a master gardener? If so, you'd better get moving because in Nassau County this opportunity only comes along once every two years.

The Cornell Cooperative Extension of Nassau County is taking applications for its 2009 Master Gardener training program, which will hold classes every Tuesday from September 1 through mid-November from 9:15 am until 3:30 pm. There also will be several mandatory field trips during September.

A 150-hour volunteer commitment is required over a 2-year period after successful completion of formal training. Nassau County residents will be given preference for the class.

To apply, or for more details, call 516-228-0426 ext.7, Mondays through Thursdays from 10am-12:30pm, or send your name and address to Cornell Cooperative Extension, Eisenhower Park, East Meadow, NY 11554.

Applications will be accepted until March 15.

I went through the program last time around. If you'd like an idea of what to expect, you can read my first-hand account of the experience here. (Start at the bottom of the page and read your way up or you'll get everything in reverse, though that might be interesting, too.)

Two authorities on the art of container gardening -- master gardeners Claire Reisert and Ellen Rush -- instructed the class last Tuesday, sharing tips and techniques and an educational journey through plant, soil and container selection.

Full disclosure: I've never been a fan of container gardening because, frankly, most of my potted plants meet an early demise. An untimely death, if you will, caused by, well, neglect.

It's no secret that plants in containers need more care than their in-the-ground counterparts. If they're outdoors, they dry out way more quickly than plants that have a seemingly endless supply of soil from which to soak up water. And they need more soil additives. While my garden plants get by with nary a squirt of Miracle-Gro, thanks to the nutrients that naturally exist in the soil, contained plants can't take up nutrients if they aren't incorporated by human intervention.

With two kids, a husband and a dog to feed, I try to go low-maintenance when it come to feeding plants. That being said, there certainly are situations when even I will resort to planting in pots. Window boxes on my porch, for example, add color and interest to an otherwise drab house front. Oftentimes that color ends up brown, but it's still color.

Reisert and Rush made a convincing case for containers, I must admit, and during their presentations I found myself pledging to give them another try.

Here are 4 take-home points they emphasized:

1. Drainage is imperative.

2. Those saucers that come with outdoor containers are not only useless, they're counter-productive. Throw them out.

3. Don't re-use potting "soil".

4. "Soil," above in quotes, should never be used in containers. Use a soil-less potting mix.

Want to learn more? The Cornell Plantations site has all the details you need to get started.

Click the title above to read other entries in the series.

What a busy couple of weeks! Anyone who thinks the Cornell Cooperative Extension's Master Gardener Program is fluff, where one learns about pretty flowers, is insane. This course is a lot of work.

I don't recall ever having to apply myself so much in all my years of school. Maybe it's because I'm more creatively inclined, and this stuff is pure science. Or maybe I'm just getting old. No matter, I'm averaging a high B, but I'm working my tail off.

Since I last wrote, the class was treated to lectures from several experts in their respective fields. We learned about herbs from Donna Gerbosi-DiFulvio, vegetable gardening from John Deignan, the science of composting from Michael Szabaga, bulbs from Harry and Mary VanAllen, weeds from Julie Seghrouchni, pest management from Bonnie Klein and how to apply diagnostic skills from Segrouchni and Klein, both Nassau CCE agents.

Some interesting tidbits:

* The mulch that's been sitting uncovered on my driveway for 3 months is probably decomposing anaerobically, which means the lack of oxygen in the pile is breeding some nasty fungi and bacteria that might be toxic to my plants. Don't buy mulch unless you can use it immediately.

* Diagnosing pest and disease issues isn't as easy as it might seem. Symptoms that might indicate a problem in one species might be completely normal in another. This is tricky stuff.

* Deer and other critters will not eat chinodoxa, scilla, narcissus, fritillaria, allium, galanthus, muscari. I knew that already, but it makes me happy.

* Lemon grass (Cymbopogon citratus) makes for a nice, unique alternative to common container spikes (Dracaena). And it smells really, really nice.

* Most herbs require a neutral pH, good drainage, air circulation and sun. No need to fertilize them, ever.

* Organic amendments are pretty much a cure-all. One can never have too much compost. You can pretty much do anything with it except brush your teeth.

* It's best to prepare a vegetable bed and dress it with organic matter in the fall, giving it all winter to break down and nourish the soil.

* You can get by planting tulips pretty late. Our mentors once were delayed until Christmas Eve, and though their tulips bloomed a bit later that first year, they made a nice showing and were right on schedule in subsequent seasons.

* Applying oil sprays on glaucous (blueish-colored) trees will remove the silvery blush from their foliage. If they require treatment, use horticultural soap instead.

* Weeds are symptoms of garden problems: Clover in the lawn indicates a nitrogen deficiency; oxalis, drought; plantain, compact soil. The list goes on and on.

Gotta go study. Big test on Tuesday.

The class took its final field trips last Thursday, visiting Hofstra University in Hempstead in the morning and Clark Botanic Garden in Albertson in the afternoon. Our guides at each location were their respective big Kahunas.

At Hofstra, Fred Soviero, the director of grounds and landscaping there, led us through much of the 240-acre campus, about half of which is maintained with donated funds. Many of the gardens and individual trees in the arboretum have been planted in memoriam or dedicated to past administrators, alumni and students who have passed away. As such, once installed, their upkeep is guaranteed in perpetuity.

Soviero is meticulous about keeping the University's end of the bargain. With a scant crew of 25 (amounting to approximately 12 acres of maintenance per crew member), he oversees the upkeep of thousands of plants and trees, implementing an integrated pest management approach to ensure the safety and well-being of the thousands of students, employees and visitors who traipse through the campus every year.

First stop: The bird sanctuary. This 2-acre sanctuary, installed in a sump, serves as an educational prototype for all of New York State. It receives 363-day-a-year attention that rivals that at Walt Disney World. The plantings, however, do not.

Here, it's all wild and natural, with most of the plants seeded by wind and birds. And even though it's made up mostly of weeds, it provides water, food, shelter and a place to rest for migrating birds. Plus, it offers a nice, peaceful respite for humans, especially in the area beside the pond.

Elsewhere on the campus, there's a pinetum, a formal labyrinth and a sensory garden with braille plant tags and sweetly scented flora.

The Hofstra campus is a member of the American Public Gardens Association, one of only 430 arboreta in the United States, and certainly worth a visit. To see what's in bloom there at any given time, click here and select "In Bloom" from the left side of the page.

At Clark Botanic Garden in Albertson, the very charismatic Jenny Ulsheimer took the class on an entertaining and educational journey through the 12-acre "living museum and educational facility."

Ulsheimer, director of horticulture at Clark, introduced us to the Garden's collections of native wildflowers, conifers, roses, perennials, wetland plants, rock garden and -- my favorites -- its herb and butterfly gardens. Tropical plants, such as banana trees and elephant ears (the largest I've ever seen) add a wow factor to Clark's appeal.

She also runs a wonderful educational program for kids (currently filled at its 60-participant capacity) that not only teaches them about but involves them in hands-on gardening. I can't think of a better leader to mold children's passion and get them excited about gardening than Ulsheimer, whose own passion and exuberance is contagious.

Jody Gangloff-Kaufmann Ph.D., an entomologist and Integrated Pest Management expert, was the guest instructor for the morning portion of Tuesday's class.

She led the class on a fascinating journey through the wonderful world of creeping, crawling, flying, biting, stinging, sucking, disease-carrying and food-stealing entities.

While the principles of IPM discourage the instant use of chemical insecticides as a first defense, it doesn't rule them out entirely. When all else fails -- or when benefits outweigh risks -- they are permitted. It's a common-sense-prevails method, which I like because typically I'm turned off by extremes in any direction.

Gangloff-Kaufmann is a crackerjack entomologist and highly accomplished in her field. The woman knows fleas and cockroaches, aphids and Asian longhorned beetles. She even covered mousetrap types. Intrigued by the idea, I poked around a bit and found this one, which I absolutely love. I'm almost wishing for a mouse just so I could try it out.

After lunch, class resumed and was treated to high-energy, comedic instruction by Tamson Yeh, Ph.D., a turf specialist at the Cornell Cooperative Extension of Suffolk County.

Yeh is like a cross between Albert Einstein and Robin Williams. She reminds me of the Food Network's Alton Brown, whom I watch whenever I have the opportunity. So smart, so passionate about -- strange as it sounds -- grass.

"I love injecting humor into dry material because I think that lights up the world for people," Yeh told me months ago, when I interviewed her about her recent book, "Can My Petunia Be Saved?" "I like to get a little humor in so that people remember things."

Mission accomplished.

On Thursday, my class took a field trip to Old Westbury Gardens. After a brief introduction, we began a 5 1/2-hour foot journey through the 200-acre estate, breaking only for lunch.

Of those acres, 88 are devoted to formal gardens, tree-lined walks, grand allées (narrow walkways flanked on both sides with double rows of trees or shrubs) and ponds. Old Westbury is considered the finest English garden in the United States, with plantings -- many 100 years old -- that include historic varieties, new hybrids and experimental plants.

I had visited the gardens before, but had never taken part in a formal tour, which proved eye-opening and inspiring.

Master gardener Gene Lanzaro led the afternoon portion of the tour, which focused on the plantings and the family that had lived at the estate, from a historical standpoint.

Henry Phipps, a poor shoemaker, immigrated to Philadelphia from England in the early 19th century, eventually settling in Pittsburgh. His son Henry II, partnered with friend and neighbor Andrew Carnegie to found Carnegie Steel. As the company's second-largest shareholder, the younger Phipps became quite wealthy.

When his son John, a financier, married Margarita Grace from Ireland, he purchased an old 160-acre Quaker farm, where he built a mansion with magnificent gardens for his new bride. The couple raised their 4 children there, surprisingly only residing at the estate during spring and fall.

Following Phipps' death in 1958, the estate was donated for public use and became known as Old Westbury Gardens.

Talk about your American Dream!

Gene did a terrific job, enthralling the class with a fascinating history lesson. We were captivated as we learned the history of 100-year-old trees, touched when we learned the family had taken in 30 European children during wartime, and amused as we strolled through the Dog Grave Yard, where the family buried more than a half-dozen of its cherished pets, each with its own personalized headstone.

Coincidently, reader Susan Kahoud of Garden City sent in a lovely piece she has written about an old apple tree at Old Westbury Gardens. It appeared originally in the Gardens' newsletter, and she has asked me to share it with Newsday readers. For me, it couldn't be more timely.

In a world that insists on the limitations of the obvious, this wise old apple tree helps us perceive the possible within the hidden, and assures us that despair does not have the last word. In the late afternoon sun, in the calm of day, it is good to rest under her bough and bask in her bounty of hope. -- Susan Kahoud

This week, master gardener Sue King took the reins and led the class through an informative slide show on garden design. While viewing gorgeous photos of her home gardens and other properties, we learned about companion planting, hardscaping, xeriscaping and winter interest. I can only hope to have her vision some day, though I suspect more of it has to do with inherent talent than education.

Later, the class was divided into groups of 8 for a collaborative landscape design project. Each group was given a large property rendering that included a house and garage, and was challenged to design hardscaping and greenscaping within 30 minutes.

Each group selected one of its members to record the results of brainstorming onto a "wish list." In our group, this was my job. Another member was to draw elements onto the design, and a 3rd was to present the final product before the class.

For some reason, our group was all but completely deadlocked, unable to agree on even the most basic elements, such as where to place the driveway. Not that we argued -- we didn't. Instead, I think a lot of the problem was the result of no one wanting to step on anyone else's suggestions. Finally, after twenty minutes had lapsed and we hadn't even begun looking at the backyard, I took the bull by the horns and suggested a simple democratic vote.

"Who wants the driveway to curve past the front door?"

"Who wants the driveway to double as a basketball court?"

"Who wants a rectangular driveway straight to the street?"

By a quick show of hands, the latter option was elected. At that point, an announcement was made to begin tracing over preliminary penciled designs with permanent marker. This wasn't good.

In the end, ours was the most barren of designs. I can't help but wonder how some other groups were able to create such elaborate landscapes with an influx of opinions from eight virtual strangers. It's one thing to collaborate with people you know well (and even then, it can be difficult,) but when you're working with people you barely know, in my group at least, it was virtually impossible.

Before I tell you about my field trip to the gardens at Farmingdale State College, I want to tell you a bit about the guest lecturer and tour guide the class had at its disposal for six wonderful hours yesterday.

Richard Iversen, Ph.D. is a celebrated professor of ornamental horticulture at the school. He was awarded the Excellence in Teaching award at the college in 2006, and spent many years in Barbados, lecturing at the University of the West Indies and serving as director of Andromeda Botanic Gardens there. When he returned to the states, he brought with him unparalleled expertise in tropical horticulture.

At Farmingdale, he put that expertise straight to work, incorporating a tropical plant theme into much of the outdoor gardens there. While digging up those tender plants every year and moving them to the greenhouse to overwinter is quite a chore (some of those plants have 30-inch root balls!), his students reap some uncommon educational rewards -- and do most of the heavy lifting. Where else in New York can one learn first-hand the process of balling and burlapping a six foot tree fern?

After a classroom lecture on annuals, biennials and perennials (did you know impatiens aren’t annuals, but rather they’re treated as annuals in our area because they aren’t winter hardy?), beds vs. borders and inflorescence, Dr. Iversen led the class out to the gardens.

There’s a secret gem hidden behind the wrought iron gates of Farmingdale State College on Route 110. The teaching gardens there rival many public botanic gardens I’ve visited, and they’re all maintained by students of the horticulture program for which Farmindale is renowned. (Graduates of the program include Vincent Simeone, director of Planting Fields Arboretum State Historic Park in Oyster Bay, and Maria Cinque, a lawn and garden expert and author who was one of the first female agricultural extension agents in the United States.) There are annual beds, mixed shrub borders, an ornamental grass garden, a beech hedge garden, a rose garden, herb garden, conservatory garden, and of course, a tropical garden, all maintained under the ever-watchful eye of Dr. Iversen, who strikes me as quite a stickler for perfection (and neatness, and efficiency.)

Dr. Iversen spoke enthusiastically about his gardens -- he has none at home but puts all his energy into the ones at the school – as he led the class on a grand tour. The man knew every single common name, genus, variety, cultivar, hybrid and epithet for every plant in every bed, every border, every garden. He could not be stumped. He spoke lovingly about Alternanthera ficoidea ‘Red Threads’, Tagetes patula ‘Disco Red’, Zinnia ‘Profusion Fire,’ and many of the other hundreds of varieties in the gardens, all the while instructing us – off the top of his head – on the origin, sun requirement, pest susceptibility, propagation method and growing cycle of each.

There was too much information to absorb in one day, to be sure, but what an eye-opening and entertaining journey.

While we Master Gardener trainees were fortunate to have an expertly guided tour, the gardens at Farmingdale are open to the public every day. Check it out while the weather is still nice. Or take a virtual tour right now -- http://www.farmingdale.edu/campuspages.business.horticulture/index.html.

When I signed up for this program, soil testing was on the top of my "learn more about" list. And since I'm preparing to revamp my lawn, the timing couldn't have been better.

Ralph Tuthill, the Nassau CCE's senior extension resource educator (aka the Head Honcho) took charge of the class for the day, lecturing on the composition of soil, the need for and types of soil amendments, compost and -- the pièce de résistance -- adjusting soil pH.

When the time came, I giddily removed three baggies of soil I had scooped up from my front, side and back yards and unpacked my CCE-issue soil test kit. Chemicals in hand, I tested my samples and logged the results (6.2, 7.2 and 7.0, respectively.)

After a lecture on nutrients, fertilizers and some fun mathematical exercises on figuring out how much N, P or K (that's nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium) to use based on square footage, class was adjourned for the day. I went home with a skip in my step, knowing my lawn will be just fine.

Yesterday in class, Dr. Gary Brown from Farmingdale State College lectured the class on the nature of the different parts of plants.

Who knew roots, leaves and stems could be so compelling? Photosynthesis and transpiration weren't nearly as interesting when I last learned about them in the 9th grade. But then again, my 9th-grade teacher wasn't anywhere near as engaging as Dr. Brown, who not only impressed me with his vast, seemingly bottomless collection of knowledge, but had me on the edge of my seat, as well. And he's funny -- always a plus, in my book.

After a half-hour lunch break, spent in the Hicks Cafe eating the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich my husband packed for me, Dr. Brown entertained the class with a nearly 3 hour slide lecture on entomology, the study of insects. That's right. He entertained us. Insects.

To me, the best part of the master gardener program is the ability to learn from the masters -- real experts on the top rung of their respective specialty ladders. Experts to which one ordinarily wouldn't have access.

Dr. Brown is a highly regarded professor of botany at SUNY Farmingdale. As if that weren't enough, he also chairs the horticulture department at the school. A truly gifted lecturer, he can make any topic captivating. Yes, even insects with piercing-sucking mouthparts.

Last week, the class took a field trip to Planting Fields Arboretum State Historic Park in Oyster Bay, where the venerable Vincent Simeone, a horticulturist and director of the arboretum, gave us a guided tour. Simeone is another expert who has achieved top ranking in his field. He's also a successful author. Not coincidently, his love of trees and shrubs began when he was a student at SUNY Farmingdale in the 1980s.

Neither instructor carried any notes, and both spoke passionately for hours about their specialties. I'm in absolute awe.

Did I absorb every last detail? I'm sure I didn't. But I learned more from them than I could have from any textbook.

Next week: Soil testing. I can hardly wait.

Last Tuesday I walked into the Henry Hicks Learning Center, sharpened pencils in tow, for my first day of the Cornell Cooperative Extension of Nassau County's Master Gardener program. I slapped on a name tag and looked around at the diverse group of smiling students entering the room. They ranged in age from what appeared to be their mid-30s to their 70s. Mostly women, but there were a handful of men among the forty or so enrollees as well.

After a nice welcome address from Ralph Tuthill, extension educator and director of the program -- who made me nervous with his assertion that the Nassau County program is the most difficult in the state -- we each were introduced by our assigned mentors, who phoned us over the summer to learn a bit about us. It was a nice touch, certainly preferable to having to introduce oneself.

Next, we were told what was expected of us: Attendance at weekly classes and field trips, completion of weekly homework assignments, weekly tests and a final exam at the end of the semester. In addition, optional extra credit assignments will be given as well.

With the formalities out of the way and coffee served (a first-day-only indulgence,) Gene Lanzaro, a retired school superintendent and a master gardener since 1999, began our first lesson, a lecture on the International Code of Botanical Nomenclature. We learned some Latin, and some Greek, and how words are put together to give plants their scientific names. That's important because while common plant names may vary from country to country, region to region and even from person to person, botanical names are consistent internationally.

With my head spinning from trying to differentiate -oides from -aceae, I bid my classmates goodbye and headed home, being sure to grab that extra credit assignment on the way out.

The Master Gardener program's roots date back to the presidency of Abraham Lincoln, who signed the Morrill Land-Grant College Act, which essentially was a farm-grant program since the country was mostly agricultural in those days.

The act granted to each state 30,000 acres of public land for each of its Senators and Representatives. Not for them, personally, it's just that that's how they calculated how much to give each state. Proceeds from the sale of that land were to be invested in a perpetual endowment that would support the creation of colleges in each state that would educate people in agriculture and mechanical arts.

Those colleges were called federal land-grant colleges. In New Jersey the land-grant college is Rutgers; in Connecticut, UConn, in New York, it's Cornell. (For a complete list of the 46 land-grant colleges, click here.)

In 1972, agents in the Washington state system began training volunteers to answer questions from home gardeners, free of charge. And thus, the Master Gardener program was born.

It's been many years since I've been enrolled in school, but I'm back in the classroom again -- as a Cornell Cooperative Extension of Nassau County master gardener in training.

Every Tuesday from 9 a.m. - 3 p.m., I'll be hitting the classroom with 40 or so like-minded students seeking a top-notch learning adventure. Often, there are all-day Thursday fields trips as well.

The purpose of the master gardener program is to educate people and send them forth into the world to spread the word. Sort of like molding apostles of gardening. In turn, each master gardener who completes the program is obligated to give back 150 hours of volunteer service during a two-year period. The volunteer work must involve disseminating Cornell University's horticultural research findings into the community. You'll probably see me sitting in an information booth somewhere, come spring.

Ever wonder what a master gardener is, exactly? I used to think it meant having a Master's degree in gardening. Wanna get an inside look at my grueling educational endeavor? Make like Mary's little lamb and follow me to school, at least virtually, for the next few months.