Christmas and the Gift of Gardeners
As long as I can remember I have been hanging out in Garden Centers. As a small child, my father was a competitive rose grower, so the smell of malathion is as iconic to my childhood memories as the smell of a bakery is to most people. Of course I have gotten all green with age and what I can only assume is some sort of wisdom. I can only think my father would have too if lung cancer hadn’t gotten him first. Especially since he always swore it was the roses that gave it to him and not the Chesterfield Kings. My father was a very ritualistic man, and no matter how much he loved those roses, spraying every other week, and fertilizing on the off weeks, there was one ritual that he loved even more. It had to be rooted in his desire to find the prefect specimen, with the perfect color and shape, and then to manipulate it even more than he could the perfect rose. That most monumental of annual quests was for the perfect Christmas tree.
I grew up in Northwest Missouri, about 30 minutes south of a little town called Shenandoah, Iowa. Most people don’t realize that for the first half of the 20th century Shenandoah, Iowa was the nursery capital of the world. More nursery stock moved through that little town with nothing but a radio hall and the Tall Corn Motel than any place in the world for almost a half a century. I grew up working for a company called Earl May. Their headquarters was there and the location I worked at was one of the first satellite locations outside of Shenandoah. Earl May grew into fame for having one of the first nationally broadcast gardening radio shows, and one of the largest distributed seed catalogs ever. What has made it one of the largest grossing nursery retailers though wasn’t nursery stock at all. It was Christmas and Pet Supplies.
In the late 70’s and early 80’s retail chains like Kmart and Pamida (not even Walmart yet) were emerging and with them came seasonal garden shops. When garden centers realized they needed to stay open year round to compete and keep customer loyalty they started looking for seasonal sales to carry them through the winter. Gone were the days of having roadside stands and taking winters off. You had to be a part of the the buyers’ year round ritual to keep up us gardeners coming in. Earl was a smart man and so were his offspring. While everyone else was deciding whether to take on animal and livestock supplies or to set up a Christmas trees on their empty nursery lots in November, Earl May decided they wanted it all. Instead of focusing on one, they went for both and instead of focusing on livestock, they went for pets. They developed a chain revolving around the lifestyle of people who love living and love living things. It was pet supplies, birding goods, and holidays of all sorts year round. Garden supplies were relegated to less than 1/3 of the store’s floor space. If people needed it weekly Earl carried it. When I left the company at a height of 62 stores, they had some of the most loyal gardening customers I have ever known, but their two largest departments were actually Christmas and Pets.
My earliest childhood memories of hanging out in that garden center were not lining up to check out the first arrival of bare root roses in March, or buying my first radishes seeds. It was the magic of walking under strands of clear white bulbs through a forest of Scotch Pine and Douglas Fir. We would run up and down the aisles hiding behind the tallest of trees, and drink hot cocoa or cider while dad analyzed every single tree in that place. It had worked and Earl got me. Of course as I grew, Earl grew. Soon they had lights and ornaments, flocked trees and artificial trees, even to the point of carrying Macy’s famed Department 56. All the way through high school and college and for another fifteen years beyond that, not only had I become and accomplished nurseryman and successful landscape designer, for two months out of every year, I became an Elf. Through three different nurseries and almost thirty years of my life, I flocked trees, made wreaths, put them in stands, created arrangements, tied bows and decorated some of the most elaborate places you have every seen. It was only appropriate that one day I would design the landscape on the Country Club Plaza, on of the most magical Christmas places of all.
As the leaves in the mountains of North Carolina begin to fall, the underlying green of the Rhododendron and Hemlock that makes them so special is coming through. But if you go up high enough, above 4,000 feet, something else is happening. If you drive high enough and get back into the most remote corners of the hills you get beyond the the hardwood forests to places with names like Little Canada and Little Switzerland. From these mystical mountain tops were you can see for miles on end, sometimes four states at a time. It is a magical place where what at one time were natural balds on top of mountains have now been turned into special forests. The trees are perfectly lined in rows, rarely get over 12′ tall and are perfectly pruned as far as the eye can see. The rich dark green with the little splash of blue is unmistakable and with the shorter days as the sun goes down the stars come out like strands of clear white bulbs over the fields. This is the origin of the Frazier Fir. The most sought after Christmas tree of all.
Yes I am a cheesy romantic. As much as I like to preach all my virtues of environmental awareness and tree hugging elitism, nothing excites me more than that in three short weeks I will take out my little girl and walk the aisles looking for that perfect specimen. We will strap it to the roof, bring it home, cut off the stump and put it in water so the branches will lay perfectly open by Thanksgiving Day and the rituals will begin. Of course I will hold back my excitement as I see it grow in her eyes over the coming weeks. Mainly because I don’t want her to explode before Christmas day, but also because I know I look like a dork. I will look weird enough at the annual Advent wreath making party when I break out my Felco pruners, floral wire, and perfectly pruned greens and berries.
In the meantime we’ll keep logs on the fire and marshmallows near by and I’m sure I’ll have more to say about the best types of trees and how to be green through all of this. But for now, the green that I am feeling is that cheesy looking elf suit that is permanently tattooed to my psyche. That same suite in reality probably made me a gardener. As much as I run from the chemicals that are the lifeblood of the garden center and loathe the grotesque commercialism that has taken over our holidays and lives as a whole, I also realize it has helped bring us a generation of gardeners. For that I owe Earl a lifetime of memories and a lifetime more to come.
