In First Person: How Flower Shows Became My Little League

By Matt Mattus

I’m often asked how I became so interested in plants, and the answer is that while my parents kept a garden, and while some of my earliest memories involve all of the typical gardening tasks like sowing tomato seeds in late winter or weeding our 1/4-acre vegetable garden, there was something else at play that kept my plant passions active: competing in flower shows as a kid.

I can pinpoint when and where I became addicted to entering flower shows. It all began on a summer afternoon in late July of 1972, and it involved a skipped piano lesson, an Orange Julius and...a Lily Show.

My dad would drop me off in downtown Worcester for my piano lesson, and afterwards I would walk up the hill to where my mom worked at the school department and he would pick both of us up at 5:00. Yet on this day, I decided to skip my lesson, grab an Orange Julius at the Mall, and walk up to Elm park to enjoy the summer sunshine.

My walk to the park took me past Horticultural Hall, then home of the Worcester County Horticultural Society. My parents would take me there once a year in February to see the annual spring flower show. Still, on this July day, it wasn't the scent of hyacinths wafting out into the chilly winter air, but a much spicier scent - like some alchemist concocted a fragrance from cloves, Crest toothpaste, and my mom's Noxema cold cream. You know, that weird scent produced by trumpet lilies.

It was set-up day for a summer lily show hosted by the New England Regional Lily group. I remember that name because the following year I won my first ribbon at the very same lily show and I still have the ribbon. The horticultural society librarian must have seen me looking in through the library door into the great hall as exhibitors were setting up their displays. I can remember the tall stems, some seemed to be as tall as I was and each topped with candelabras of down-facing and outfacing lilies.

I know that to some folks today, exhibiting at flower shows hosted by horticultural societies could seem like a relics of a time gone by. Like some Victorian elitist event - maybe recalling that one episode of Downton Abby where the common townfolk enter their roses but never, ever expect to win. But twelve year old me? He must have been fearless. I saw the classes being set out, the trays of cabbages and peas, the rows of early apples all neatly arranged in rows, that one table with all of the different colors of watermelon - and a table with just marigolds on display.

I saw vases of flowers I was familiar with, but only by what they looked like in seed catalog photos. There were vases of every imaginable type of aster - the ostrich plume kinds, the cactus flowered ones, tall ones, miniature ones, and all in one place at one time. When I think about it now, those flower shows reminded me of mineral displays one sees at natural history museums except here they were flowers and all arranged by variety and type. It was just like a seed catalog where all of the photos came to life.

Then I saw the marigold table. There were clear vases with gigantic orange marigolds, endless types of short French crested varieties, and one big vase with the most incredible, perfect 3" blooms that were primrose yellow. "These are very special..." the librarian pointed out. “They were grown by another boy like you from Millbury" she explained. "And look, he was awarded a State of Massachusetts Department of Agriculture blue rosette ribbon for his entry. Isn't that nice?"

All I could think about my marigold rows at home in my parents' veg garden where I had planted every variety that I could find that summer. I thought to myself, "Dang! I really think that I could enter mine and maybe win something.” And that's how entering flower shows became my Little League. You've probably guessed by now that I wasn't exactly the typical twelveyear-old, as I was already obsessed with gardening. My parents allowed me to grow whatever I wanted in that corner of their vegetable garden. Still, once I started entering flower shows...that corner grew with each year until I claimed nearly half of the entire garden for my competition varieties. I was that kid who could care less about Marvel comics or Mad Magazine, but I knew when the Burpee's or Park's seed catalog would arrive in January. Those became dog-eared and filled with notes as I composed wish lists of what I wanted to order, dreaming of the coming year and those flower shows held every two weeks.

After that, every summer until college, I became a severe flower show athlete. I became an athlete because flower shows became my sport. I would search out interesting seed varieties based not only on what I saw in the new catalogs but also on my notes from previous shows. Flower shows are a great place to see flowers and vegetables in real life. I was learning without realizing it. I acquired such knowledge and expertise that by the time I entered high school, my horticulturist teacher attempted to stump the class on the first day by holding up various annuals, perennials, and vegetables to see what his students knew. When I guessed them all, he pulled me aside and said that I could work in the greenhouse for the rest of the semester because I wasn't going to learn anything new in his class.

Flower shows are excellent places to take notes, even if one never enters and competes. I still advise new gardeners to attend a plant society show if they really want to see the latest and greatest spider flowered daylily or want to understand all the different types of dahlias. But by competing, you also learn, rubbing elbows with more experienced growers, and the joy of sharing your luck and maybe skill (often just by accident) when you occasionally win a ribbon, but the social aspect of entering along with many other home growers is just as fun, believe me. Isn’t it funny how the idea of flower shows remains so popular in England, but not here in the US? That's why I was so thrilled when I first heard about MHS reintroducing the idea of hosting a flower show and kicking it off with a late summer show - the sort of show where nearly everyone can find something to enter. What fun.

The timing may also be kismet, as more young are interested in gardening today than ever before. The signs are everywhere, from the local flower movement to the revitalized houseplant trend, to floral design, to home gardeners sharing their successes (and sometimes failures) on social media. There was a time just a decade ago when I would speak to garden clubs about dahlias, and the audience would laugh out loud. "Those were the gaudy flowers that our grandparents grew!" I would hear.

We all know that dahlias have been rediscovered by a new generation of gardeners, and along with other old-fashioned flowers like ranunculus and sweet peas are popular once again.

I hope everyone reading this thinks about entering one of the classes in this new MHS flower show concept. You don't need to be an expert or even a plant geek, as there are classes for nearly everyone, from photography buffs to those handy in arranging flowers. Even that one perfectly perfect marigold blooming in your September garden has a decent chance to win a ribbon, and we all know how that can turn out. I mean, it's not as if there are many professional marigold growers out there. What's the worst that can happen? Don't blame me if you find yourself planting more varieties next year to enter!

For ‘In First Person,’ Leaflet Editor-in-Chief Wayne Mezitt interviews people in horticulture and adjacent fields by asking a standard set of questions about their work. This column offers an opportunity for people in these fields to share their passions with readers; what motivates them, and how they define and measure success.