Garden Detective

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? I didn’t), 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.

It won't be long before many of us till the herb garden and turn to limp, yellow store-bought herbs for the off-season. But thanks to a futuristic innovation currently on the market, we can actually enjoy home-grown herbs -- veggies, even -- all winter long. And I don't mean leggy plants sitting on a window sill trying desparately to soak up whatever rays they can from the short daylight exposure they'll get. I'm talking about hydroponics.

AeroGarden, a new-fangled kitchen appliance reminiscent of Ralph Kramden’s Chef of the Future, enables gardeners to grow greens, cherry tomatoes and herbs on their countertops in about the same space as a standard microwave oven. Pre-seeded pods germinate within 24 hours and grow in air and water, without the use of soil. Roots are suspended in air within a 100 percent-humidity, highly-oxygenated growing chamber. What’s more, the computerized unit flashes red lights when it’s time to add nutrients, which come in preloaded tablets.

Programmable grow lights automatically turn on and off to simulate the sun, and there are no harmful insects to worry about and no weeds to pull.

I saw a display of them selling for $149.99 at Hicks Nurseries in Old Westbury (call 516-334-0066 to confirm availability) They're also available similarly priced at aerogrow.com.

John Lennon, 62, of Coram has an interesting tale to tell. The restaurateur-turned-butcher received a Pistachio tree as a souvenir about six years ago from his son's trip to New Orleans. "It was a scrawny little bush in a pot," he says, adding that his son bought it at a nursery in Louisiana.

The potted tree spent its first summer on the deck in Lennon's backyard. Not wanting to bring it indoors for the winter, he threw caution to the wind and planted it in an unprotected spot in the middle of his yard. "The next year it came back. The leaves looked great," he says.

The tree has more than doubled in size, and is now nearly 10 feet tall and 6 feet wide, and Lennon is amazed. "I'm told Pistachios need Arizona or California weather," he says. "They also require a male and female for pollination, so I wasn't expecting any nuts." But last year, the tree had 15 flowers on it. This year, it's covered with hundreds of "nuts."

According to the University of California's Resource for Fruit and Nut Crops, Pistachio trees require "long, hot, dry summers and mild winters," neither of which would describe the climate in Coram. It goes on to confirm that Pistachio trees are dioecious, which means there are two different sexes of the trees and that a male must be planted near a female "to get a good crop set." The resource also states that "only the warmest regions of California are suited for pistachio production in the backyard" and that "pistachios are a poor choice for coastal California."

So how is it that Lennon is having success?

Vincent Simeone, director of the Planting Fields Arboretum State Historic Park in Oyster Bay and a horticultural consultant, says Pistachio trees are, in fact, dioecious, so if it's a Pistachio, there must be a male nearby that is pollinating it. "That would be an unusual scenario, to say the least," Simeone says, adding that the odds of that on Long Island are "slim."

After studying photos of Lennon's tree, Simeone cracked the case: The pictures are of Cornus Florida, or flowering Dogwood. "Pistachio has a long, compound leaf," he pointed out, not simple leaves like those on Lennon's tree.

I've alerted Lennon and warned him against eating those "nuts," which in actuality are the half-inch-long red fruits commonly seen on dogwood trees this time of year. What a difference a mixed-up plant tag can make!

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.

Did you miss my Great Long Island Tomato Challenge? Now worries: You still might have a shot at glory. Hicks Nurseries in Westbury is holding their 10th annual tomato contest tomorrow (Sept. 8.)

Long Island gardeners are invited to bring their home-grown tomatoes to the nursery from 8 am to 10:45 am. Winners will be announced and prizes awarded at 11 a.m. for the heaviest, largest circumference, most unusual and tiniest red tomatoes. No frozen or previously frozen tomatoes will be accepted and tomatoes must be ripe.

Children also may enter their 'own-grown' tomatoes, and the efforts of 12-and-unders will be rewarded with special certificates.

Hicks Nurseries is located at 100 Jericho Turnpike in Westbury. Call 516-334-0066 with questions or visit www.hicksnurseries.com.