Meditation on UC Master Gardener Holiday Recognition Dinner

Article By Liz Rottger
Photos by Simone Adair

The UC Master Gardener Holiday Recognition Dinner is much more than a sumptuous potluck. It is also a chance for us to reconnect with each other, our former classmates, fellow project members, and the friends we have made over the years. There is always so much joy in a room bursting with energy and laughter.

But as I reflect on this past year’s dinner, I am reminded that change is a part of life—and, thankfully, so is joy. I much prefer saying “I’m getting older” rather than “I’m old.” My vision and hearing are no longer as sharp as they once were. Sometimes, when someone across the table, particularly in a large, noisy room, cracks a joke, I don’t quite catch the punchline, but I can see everyone is laughing. I laugh, too. Or someone points out an old friend across the room, but I can’t quite make out who it is.

There are other reasons why people are almost unrecognizable. The UC Master Gardener Holiday Recognition Dinner is always an elegant affair. Everyone is so beautiful. It’s always a surprise to see everyone so dressed up, their usual shabby garden attire swapped out for suits and ties and carefully chosen outfits. But it’s a bit disorienting. A woman comes up and gives me a big hug. I must know her, but her hair is carefully coiffed, she is nicely made-up, and she has a shimmering top with a sparkling necklace. Who is she anyway? Gratefully, Terri Takusagawa and her crew made very large name tags for all of us to wear. (Thank you, Terri! Perhaps you understand my problems?) In any case, the moment of panic is gracefully resolved. Still, the transformation is striking. It highlights something profound about UC Master Gardeners—it is by its very nature very egalitarian: people digging in the earth together, united by a shared purpose.

However, the UC Master Gardener organization has now outgrown my ability to know every person and name. An old brain can only handle so many names. When I first joined, there were just over a hundred of us, but now we’re 300-strong. Genuinely getting to know fellow UC Master Gardeners requires working side-by-side and sharing the sweat and satisfaction of a project. Living in the outer reaches of West County, far from the Central County hub, there are far fewer projects to work together on, and I miss the opportunities to connect with some of the newer, younger members of CoCoMG. I should follow the admirable path of Bob Archer, our wandering Circuit Rider, who travels out across the county, in a cowboy hat no less, to every Ask A Master Gardener table in the county! But I doubt that I will make that happen.

In the end, none of this really mattered. The camaraderie in the room at the Holiday Recognition Dinner made it clear that we were all part of something bigger than any one person or place. I was thrilled to share my dinner table with my fellow West County UC Master Gardeners and our guest, Matt Dwinel, a remarkable young Eagle Scout who built a garden shed for the Water Conservation Garden.

The evening was truly a feast for the senses. The medieval-style, long tables were laden with a banquet of delicious dishes and desserts, evoking the spirit of abundance we find in our gardens. The hand-crafted wreaths—the labor of love of Cynthia Casey, Hospitality Co-Lead with Susan Domanico, Ruth Perelstein and Reba Siero—lit with tiny fairy lights brought a festive warmth to the space. It felt as if every detail, from the libations to the laughter, had been tended with care.

As I left the dinner that evening, I overheard someone say, “I had no idea there were so many of us!” I couldn’t help but smile in agreement. The room filled with so much happiness—it felt like stepping into a lush garden bursting with life: comforting and bountiful. Together, we celebrated this year’s achievements and the shared passion that brings us together. We all felt celebrated and recognized at this annual heartfelt event. For me, it was also a poignant reminder that as we age and change, our connections—to one another and the earth itself only grow deeper.