In October of last year I took the Washington State Nursery & Landscape Association's (WSNLA) Certified Professional Horticulturalist (CPH) exam, which I passed without a hitch. I'm sure that my less than 100% on the written (92%) was due to flunking all questions related to turf. I answered them all the same: Fescue. Really, lawns are just not my thing and should you have a question about them, I carry a phone that has more oomph that the computers that sent the first orbiter the the moon. We'll figure it out! But, I digress... After passing the exam, you have two years to work 2000 verifiable industry related hours to complete the certification. At the end of November, I turned my hours in. This, and spending a lot of time in Texas, is why no one but my clients, family and employers have seen me for over a year. You're given two years to gather the hours as landscaping isn't necessarily a year-round endeavor in the Pacific North Wet. While just over 25% of my hours were awarded to me via my horticulture degree and Master Gardener certification, getting it done in 13 months was accomplished, at times, by working 3 industry jobs.
The WSNLA's CPH certification shows that, as a professional, you've taken the time, interest and investment to further educate yourself in the field (turf aside). It gives you 'street cred.' The Master Gardener certificate, professionally, means the least, but still has clients falling down at my feet. The horticultural degree impresses only those with true knowledge. What I've found has the most meaning in my horticultural career is experience. Nothing is more valuable than time spent getting dirty.
Caitlin S. Dittmer, CPH
Friday, December 7, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Texas Sun...
Makes my back, makes my back burn.... That's the way the song goes. And while I am in Texas, I have taken care not to scorch, though my daughter says I am turning many shades darker than my usual August tones.
Texas summoned me due to my former husband's illness and death. My youngest daughter, son-in-law and I made it here in time to join my other two girls to be with their dad as he passed away. I was humbled and honored to be present.
When someone you are connected to, for better or worse, in sickness and health and by mutual choice despite divorce, dies, it leaves you (or at least me) in a very contemplative place. The rustle of the palm in his backyard makes me wonder if he's trying to catch my attention about something left undone, or unsaid. Driving his fast and expensive cars sort of channels him in all the right ways with good memories, like being taught to shift without using the clutch. The cooing doves that populate the power lines behind his home, and no one else's, charm me. The grief of our children breaks my heart and clouds my eyes. The details of the estate are somehow soothing as they are something that can be acted upon when very little else can be.
At this very moment, one of our daughter's friends is enjoying the pool with his two children. It is a delight to both meet these beautiful children and to hear the garden ringing with laughter and delight. There are plants blooming in the garden whose identity is beyond my broad west coast scope of knowledge. Cannas are considered invasive here. There are other interesting southern things that we might grow as annuals in the PNW. Under different circumstances I'd look them up and learn about their culture and care. It just doesn't matter right now. What matters is our daughter is sitting poolside studying while her friend and his boys are cooling off from the Texas heat. I think all will be OK with the world after a little while.
Texas summoned me due to my former husband's illness and death. My youngest daughter, son-in-law and I made it here in time to join my other two girls to be with their dad as he passed away. I was humbled and honored to be present.
When someone you are connected to, for better or worse, in sickness and health and by mutual choice despite divorce, dies, it leaves you (or at least me) in a very contemplative place. The rustle of the palm in his backyard makes me wonder if he's trying to catch my attention about something left undone, or unsaid. Driving his fast and expensive cars sort of channels him in all the right ways with good memories, like being taught to shift without using the clutch. The cooing doves that populate the power lines behind his home, and no one else's, charm me. The grief of our children breaks my heart and clouds my eyes. The details of the estate are somehow soothing as they are something that can be acted upon when very little else can be.
At this very moment, one of our daughter's friends is enjoying the pool with his two children. It is a delight to both meet these beautiful children and to hear the garden ringing with laughter and delight. There are plants blooming in the garden whose identity is beyond my broad west coast scope of knowledge. Cannas are considered invasive here. There are other interesting southern things that we might grow as annuals in the PNW. Under different circumstances I'd look them up and learn about their culture and care. It just doesn't matter right now. What matters is our daughter is sitting poolside studying while her friend and his boys are cooling off from the Texas heat. I think all will be OK with the world after a little while.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)