By GEORGE ROBERTSON, M.D.
Ever since my wife came across the recipe for making your own flowerpots she has been on a mission. She got together with some of her friends for the first session. It was so much fun that she offered her services to the Master Gardeners club and volunteered to do a program for them at the next month’s gathering.
After committing to the occasion she began getting together the fixings for the project. The back end of the van was filled with sacks of vermiculite, peat moss and cement more than once. The first ingredients were easy to handle but the cement was so heavy that some manly help was required in its transport and delivery.
With the meeting only a few days away, it became imperative that all of the elements must come together in a perfect blend days before the actual event. So we dipped bags and bags of stuff and combined them so that the students would have the “complicated process” simplified before mixing time.
Our basement was not only filled with bags of stuff, but trial pots were made to be sure the amount of the ingredients already measured would satisfy the pot size selected.
Next she went to the computer to print out the formula in great detail so that everybody would know what to do and be able to pass it on to their progeny.
The big night for the Master Gardener’s meeting had arrived and all the sacks of material, forms for the pots, literature and two previously trained pot makers were loaded into the van for transport to the fairgrounds (the meeting place) 30 minutes before time to start. This happened just the time that the bottom dropped out of the big thundercloud which unloaded about 2 inches of rain all over Lebanon.
When we reached the fairgrounds, the streets were flooded with water. The tables were wet and the mood was soggy. There were thunderstorm warnings for the area, and the consensus was that additional storms were on their way. So all of the good food that had been cooked for the meeting and all of the gardeners beat a hasty retreat from the area just as the sun was breaking out from under the clouds and the rain was stopping. We went back home and unloaded the week’s accumulation of pots, sacks, instructions and trained pot makers. My biggest complaint, however, was that I did not get to eat the potluck supper.
Editor’s Note: Robertson is a physician with Family Medical Associates, PC, in Lebanon.