Black Thumbed & Witless
One day in sixth grade we spent science class outside. Sitting on the blacktop with paper and pencil, we were instructed to select one of the trees from the many which grew along the border of the school’s property. We were to draw the tree as well as collect a leaf from the tree and label the different parts of said leaf. This is the only instance of tree education that I recall from my public school experience.
Before sixth grade I spent probably five or six years as a member of the Girl Scouts. While we did go camping at least once or twice, I remember absolutely no discussion of trees, shrub, or plants except for reminders that poison ivy was bad and to be avoided. Even during the summer of my junior year of high school when I worked for the Student Conservation Association and spent six weeks in the literal forest I did not learn anything about trees.
When it comes to nature I am completely witless, although I have gotten better over the last couple of years. It used to be that I could only identify two types of trees: regular trees and Christmas trees. I knew words like deciduous and conifer were connected to trees, but without really knowing what they meant without the assistance of Google. A year or so ago I was discussing my lack of tree knowledge with my sister who quickly taught me that if the leaves on a tree look like the leaf on the Canadian flag, that is a maple tree. She then reminded me of the willow tree in our backyard when we were small, easily identified by its unique dangling branch/tendril things. This conversation alone made it so I can now identify maples, willows, and Christmas trees. Anything that does not fall into those three categories remains in the fourth category of regular tree.
I am not any better when it comes to shrubs or plants. To me a shrub is something that lines the sidewalks in the parts of town I sometimes walk around for exercise. I think of them mainly as places where ticks are likely to hide, waiting to jump onto an unwilling host as they accidentally brush up against the shrub. Needless to say, I avoid touching the shrubbery.
I also cannot identify different varieties of shrubs or plants. Once I arrived home to find the front yard of my building dug up due to a leaking gas line. As I walked up to the building I encountered my landlord who apologized for the uproar and let me know the work would be done soon. As we chatted, agreeing that we were glad the problem had not become explosive, he lamented the fact that one of the plants by the front of the building had been dug up. “I just hope the (insert name of plant here) survives this. It’s been doing so well for the last couple of years.” Until that moment I hadn’t even really noticed the bushes in front of the building despite having lived there for a couple years, so I just fake smiled and said, “Oh yes, I hope so. It’s so…lovely.”
Flowers confound me almost as much. I recognize and can name the ones I like, as well as those that are most popular, i.e. roses. I can point out a lily both because I find them pretty and because they are toxic to cats. Orchids blossoms remind me of dragons, so I know those. I like a Gerber daisy and a sunflower, and I can recognize tulips from the fake plants that once resided in my grandmother’s house. Thistles are another I can identify, but my mother claims that they are weeds that do not count as flowers; I respectfully disagree as I find them quite pretty. Outside of this small handful, I really am at a loss when it comes to flowers too.
My knowledge of crops is likewise limited. I know corn and soybeans. Otherwise when I see something growing in a field I almost always assume it is wheat, even when it doesn’t really look like wheat.
An enthusiasm for gardening runs in my family on my mom’s side, but it is a trait that I did not inherit. I just don’t enjoy it, although I appreciate the aesthetics of careful landscaping. More than that, I most definitely have a black thumb. Any plant I’ve ever been given has died despite my best efforts to keep them alive. It would be lovely to have a couple of houseplants around to green up the place, but it’s like they know I don’t know anything about them. Automatically in my presence they are like, “She’s trying, but deep down she doesn’t really care if we live or die. She doesn’t even know our name. Let’s fake her out.” Like clockwork any plants I bring home will thrive for a couple of weeks, just long enough for me to think I finally have it figured out. Then they die spectacularly, seemingly without reason. I am left to get rid of the carcass and feel ashamed of my black thumb.
My current victim.
Mostly I feel like I’m missing out on something. It’s as if I missed a whole class on plant life, on the nature that surrounds us. I am not against nature, I just don’t know anything about it. The problem is that I am disinclined to learn anything to fill in the gaps of my knowledge. I love a peaceful hike through the forest, but am not really interested in identifying the trees. I also like walking through gardens and admiring the blooms, but I’m not bothered that I don’t know what they are. While I do not really care, it seems wrong to not even try to learn more about nature considering it supports life on earth.
A large portion of my every day anxiety stems from my assumption that everything in life is trying to kill me and the consequential vigilance in avoiding things that might end my life. I never eat expired foods, even when they look and smell fine. I am ruthless with a meat thermometer, stabbing foods over and over again to ensure all areas are cooked to the appropriate temperature. I look both ways multiple times before crossing the street, even when I have the right of way and I never cross against the lights. My apartment has two carbon monoxide detectors though it only requires one. I would never ride a bike without a helmet or drive a car without a seatbelt fastened. My nose is on constant alert for the smell of gas. I am hyper-vigilant and ever careful in all things that might even slightly endanger my life or the lives of others.
Given all of the things I do every day to ensure my survival, you would think that I’d also want to know how to survive if I were stranded in the wilderness. Shouldn’t I be scrambling to learn all of the local flora and fauna so that I know how to keep myself alive out in nature? What kind of trees make the best firewood? What berries and mushrooms are poisonous? Which are safe to consume? What shrubs or trees would make the best shelter, and which ones are just going to drop sap on you? These are good questions and they are questions I cannot even begin to answer.
In the end I trust that I would never find myself stranded in the wild. While I will venture out there occasionally in the company of others much better informed about the natural world, I always make sure I’m back in civilization by nightfall. I can’t tell trees apart, but I am smart enough to know that I’m way out of my depth out where there is no light pollution or cell signal. No shame in being indoorsy.
Although I do wish I knew what poison ivy looks like. That one would be handy.
