Garden Images: Rest in Peace

I am saddened—and embarrassed to admit—that many of my garden images were lost in a computer mishap not long ago. Here's to saving images elsewhere in the new year.
UPDATE: Many, if not all of the pictures, were saved by a friend. Now I have to go back and arrange them.

Unusual Winter Berries

This plant is one of my current favorites. Though its official name is Melicytus angustifolius, it has no common name, yet! Purchased at Cistus here in the Portland area, it was something my husband chose due to its unusual appearance. (How else can a woman take her husband plant shopping?) I would love for it to have a common name other than: That-Plant-My-Husband-Picked-Out. Since Snowberry is already taken, I may want to call it Winter Pearl Shrub. No matter. I just adore it and cannot wait for it to grow more. (I am picking a few berries for seed. Hope to grow more of these.)

Master Gardener Shock! Scandal!

A few days ago I was told that I could apply for the Master Gardener program in advance of the public because I had expressed interest in doing so with their online course sign-up feature. That was October 31, 2008. At the time, I had to sit back and consider the cost of paying $300 to become a trained voluteer. As someone who is pretty ill, this is a big consideration because we don't have a budget for such expenses. So, just a few days later, I go to sign-up. It has been open to public registration now for a grand total of 2 days! Every county in the Portland area is already on wait-list status. This is crazy! How many other community programs wait-lists its many volunteers? How do these folks have an extra $300 sitting around when the economy is in trouble?
The status of being a Master Gardener in the Portland area is out of control. So often it is a skill touted and I wish it didn't come across as being so off-putting. I guess I am tired of lifestyle options and accessories—such as a Master Gardener Certificates.

Horticultural Therapy

For many reasons, I already feel that I am a horticultural therapist, but I do not have a certificate in the field. As much as I may want one, and I may still seek one out, part of me is somehow upset by the fact that even garden therapy has now been sucked into the professionalism can. This, again, points to how difficult it can be to begin again when your first plan at a profession is hindered by your health.
As someone already set back by years of being unable to work, it is sad to begin again already thinking of missing out on a few more years, since they will be sucked up by some other kind of training. In addition, there is always the fear of falling apart, again, after having had to drop other big life plans. Failure was never an option in the past, but now it is almost always expected, along with a another trip to a doctor, and another...
Expecting failure is a strange way to live, but at least I rarely, if ever, see germination failure. I tend to let plants fail when the weather gets too hot, and I don't water them quite enough. Then it is their failure—not really—but it is a state of failure I can accept. Okay, the only version of failure I can deal with at all. Until they are strong, I care for them more than I often care for myself. This is how I live as I await a return to anything close to normal for me.