Dad and the Scientist: a botanical garden visit that changed the way I saw expertise.

The photo is from the 2024 exhibit "Exquisite Creatures" at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, Bentonville, AR.
Decades ago, my father and I drove into New York City in his pickup truck with Arkansas license plates. I remember a friendly honk from a JB Hunt driver as we crossed a bridge into the city.
Our destination: a botanical garden, where Dad had arranged to meet an orchid scientist.
Since well before I was born, orchids had been Dad’s passion. He read Orchid Digest cover to cover. He built greenhouses by hand in our backyard. He even crossed orchids, carefully placing dust-like seeds into agar-filled glass flasks and waiting years to see the results, proudly registering one of his crosses.
That day, though, he was just my dad.
He was wearing a ratty gold sweater that had seen better days. I was in my second year of college in the landscape architecture program and, like many 20-year-olds, certain I knew so much.
Then Dad and the scientist started talking. They discussed orchid species, propagation, and growing conditions. They compared notes and observations. They spoke as peers.
And I understood almost none of it.
I suddenly saw my father differently, as someone who had spent decades reading, experimenting, asking questions, and learning from people who knew more than he did. I saw a man who built his own education one book, one question, and one orchid at a time—and who helped his children follow paths that had been out of reach for him.
No degree had given him that knowledge. Curiosity had.
Gardeners sometimes ask how to learn more. The answer is rarely glamorous. Read the books. Join the Master Gardeners or a garden society. Ask questions. Listen to the people who have been growing something for twenty years longer than you have. Visit the garden. Attend the lecture. Try something and learn from your failures. Then try something different.
Expertise grows the same way a garden does – slowly, with additions and edits.
And sometimes the wisest person in the room (or the truck) is the one in the ratty sweater. Also sometimes the bravest – I have driven several long road trips, but I would never drive into NYC!
Note: This post was originally written as a Love Note from the Garden. Sign up for these free, weekly emails at the bottom of this page.


