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I awoke with a sick-headache, and knew the weather had changed—I knew the sky, like my head, was occluded with dark clouds settled low in the valley. Yes, my head is my Weather Channel, and I find that really annoying. This was not supposed to happen to me—I was supposed to have immunity.
Do you ever do magical thinking? I've been deluding myself for a long time. I was so sure I was not going to experience any of the signs of aging—I had immunities, right? Of course, I've been dead wrong about all of that, so I can get pretty cranky about being a human barometer.
It makes sense, though. I grew up under sunlit, unchanging, skies, and didn't move here until I was middle-aged. My body is never going to like winter—it's always going to whine.
I had another jolt of reality versus magical thinking while attending the ARS Consulting Rosarian seminar in Denver last week. All gardeners, and especially rose people who are competitive and raise roses for exhibition, have debated the rapid and radical changes that have taken place in the “chemical” market for garden problem solving. The changes in both knowledge and availability have reconstructed nearly every herbicide or pesticide on the market. It's confusing because marketers are incredibly savvy in playing to our ignorance. Keeping up in garden technology is just like keeping up with digital technology—it changes constantly.
Have you really read a label on a pesticide or herbicide? Many of the bottled products come with a booklet that can be both difficult to open, and then confusing when we're looking for a simple answer to the simple question: How much? There's a method to that madness, though, and once you know the point of the method, it makes sense. If you could find the answer to “how much?” as soon as you looked at the label, you'd never get around to reading the rest of the label. It's true. And if you do take time to read one of those booklets, you'll realize why it's so important to pay attention to that information.
It is very easy to get the application of chemical products wrong. More importantly, insecticides and herbicides can harm us if used incorrectly. This is where a lot of magical thinking gets in the way of common sense. Carelessness with any of these products can have serious unintended consequences. Did you read the article about the woman who released insect foggers in her trailer and killed one of her kids? I rest my case!
I always wear latex/nutrile gloves when I'm working outside, no matter what, but I wasn't motivated by protecting my hands from the tetanus pathogen lurking in the dirt. I wear them because they protect me from the agony of fingertip cracks, and to preserve my manicure. However, I don't really take any other precautions when I'm handling chemicals, because . . . I'm immune, right? All the bad stuff happens to other gardeners, right?
Did I mention that I also think (thought) that I'm immune to bee stings? I don't know—maybe I thought that bees just know I'm a good person, so they wouldn't sting me—they'd sting OTHER people. Whatever. I got stung a couple of weeks ago—I don't know if it was a bee or a yellow jacket or a flying tarantula, but I got stung on my neck. It made me miserable for a week—so much for immunity. When I did get stung, I immediately told myself I wouldn't have a reaction at all, so I didn't do anything about it at first, which gave it time to turn into a giant, burning, itching welt. Eventually Benadryl and Ibuprofen saved me, but immunity wasn't a factor.
I swear—I have a bad case of STUPID, and I don't seem to respond to treatment—I keep repeating my stupidity. Can you vaccinate yourself for that?
The last time I was stung I was in my late 20s, and I don't remember it being memorable. I forgot I'm a lot older than that now. As it has been explained to me, relentlessly, as we age, our immune levels change. Oh. AND, as we age, our skin thins out and we are increasingly vulnerable to injury in the garden. Thin(ner) skin gets scraped, and bruised, by the least little thing, so it makes sense to admit that we're getting older and just compensate for the downsides. Thin, damaged, skin sucks up toxins and pathogens. Wear gloves. Wear long sleeves. Wear masks. Wear hats. Wear knee-pads. Wear thorn-guards. Still got those knee and elbow pads you wore back in your roller-blading days? Put those on.
We're not immune to insecticide splashes on our skin or our eyes. We're not immune to inhaling fumes that can ruin your lungs. We're not immune to insect bites, or pathogens waiting in the soil for a fresh wound to pick it up. You don't still believe in the rusty-nail school of tetanus contagion, right? You know it's not the rust or the metal—it's the pathogen in the dirt on the rusty nail. Get a tetanus shot.
We don't know everything—we really DO need to read the labels on garden products, and follow the directions. The pamphlets are not written by people who are trying to trick us into doing something stupid. Just about any insecticide or herbicide booklet can scare you out of using it—the warnings are extensive and specific. They aren't trying to talk you out of using them—they're trying to tell you how to use it and not be stupid while you're doing it.
If we're going to do magical thinking, let's try to be our own guardian angels, and stop telling ourselves immunity myths. I swore I'd never say this, but don't do as I do/have done—do as I say!
-------------------------------
Judith is a master gardener, an American Rose Society-certified consulting rosarian, and a member of the Grand Valley Rose Society. She works at Mt. Garfield Greenhouse during the growing season. She will answer your questions at rosyoldie@gmail.com.
Do you ever do magical thinking? I've been deluding myself for a long time. I was so sure I was not going to experience any of the signs of aging—I had immunities, right? Of course, I've been dead wrong about all of that, so I can get pretty cranky about being a human barometer.
It makes sense, though. I grew up under sunlit, unchanging, skies, and didn't move here until I was middle-aged. My body is never going to like winter—it's always going to whine.
I had another jolt of reality versus magical thinking while attending the ARS Consulting Rosarian seminar in Denver last week. All gardeners, and especially rose people who are competitive and raise roses for exhibition, have debated the rapid and radical changes that have taken place in the “chemical” market for garden problem solving. The changes in both knowledge and availability have reconstructed nearly every herbicide or pesticide on the market. It's confusing because marketers are incredibly savvy in playing to our ignorance. Keeping up in garden technology is just like keeping up with digital technology—it changes constantly.
Have you really read a label on a pesticide or herbicide? Many of the bottled products come with a booklet that can be both difficult to open, and then confusing when we're looking for a simple answer to the simple question: How much? There's a method to that madness, though, and once you know the point of the method, it makes sense. If you could find the answer to “how much?” as soon as you looked at the label, you'd never get around to reading the rest of the label. It's true. And if you do take time to read one of those booklets, you'll realize why it's so important to pay attention to that information.
It is very easy to get the application of chemical products wrong. More importantly, insecticides and herbicides can harm us if used incorrectly. This is where a lot of magical thinking gets in the way of common sense. Carelessness with any of these products can have serious unintended consequences. Did you read the article about the woman who released insect foggers in her trailer and killed one of her kids? I rest my case!
I always wear latex/nutrile gloves when I'm working outside, no matter what, but I wasn't motivated by protecting my hands from the tetanus pathogen lurking in the dirt. I wear them because they protect me from the agony of fingertip cracks, and to preserve my manicure. However, I don't really take any other precautions when I'm handling chemicals, because . . . I'm immune, right? All the bad stuff happens to other gardeners, right?
Did I mention that I also think (thought) that I'm immune to bee stings? I don't know—maybe I thought that bees just know I'm a good person, so they wouldn't sting me—they'd sting OTHER people. Whatever. I got stung a couple of weeks ago—I don't know if it was a bee or a yellow jacket or a flying tarantula, but I got stung on my neck. It made me miserable for a week—so much for immunity. When I did get stung, I immediately told myself I wouldn't have a reaction at all, so I didn't do anything about it at first, which gave it time to turn into a giant, burning, itching welt. Eventually Benadryl and Ibuprofen saved me, but immunity wasn't a factor.
I swear—I have a bad case of STUPID, and I don't seem to respond to treatment—I keep repeating my stupidity. Can you vaccinate yourself for that?
The last time I was stung I was in my late 20s, and I don't remember it being memorable. I forgot I'm a lot older than that now. As it has been explained to me, relentlessly, as we age, our immune levels change. Oh. AND, as we age, our skin thins out and we are increasingly vulnerable to injury in the garden. Thin(ner) skin gets scraped, and bruised, by the least little thing, so it makes sense to admit that we're getting older and just compensate for the downsides. Thin, damaged, skin sucks up toxins and pathogens. Wear gloves. Wear long sleeves. Wear masks. Wear hats. Wear knee-pads. Wear thorn-guards. Still got those knee and elbow pads you wore back in your roller-blading days? Put those on.
We're not immune to insecticide splashes on our skin or our eyes. We're not immune to inhaling fumes that can ruin your lungs. We're not immune to insect bites, or pathogens waiting in the soil for a fresh wound to pick it up. You don't still believe in the rusty-nail school of tetanus contagion, right? You know it's not the rust or the metal—it's the pathogen in the dirt on the rusty nail. Get a tetanus shot.
We don't know everything—we really DO need to read the labels on garden products, and follow the directions. The pamphlets are not written by people who are trying to trick us into doing something stupid. Just about any insecticide or herbicide booklet can scare you out of using it—the warnings are extensive and specific. They aren't trying to talk you out of using them—they're trying to tell you how to use it and not be stupid while you're doing it.
If we're going to do magical thinking, let's try to be our own guardian angels, and stop telling ourselves immunity myths. I swore I'd never say this, but don't do as I do/have done—do as I say!
-------------------------------
Judith is a master gardener, an American Rose Society-certified consulting rosarian, and a member of the Grand Valley Rose Society. She works at Mt. Garfield Greenhouse during the growing season. She will answer your questions at rosyoldie@gmail.com.
