Apprising people of my line of work, the response is either puzzled looks or inquiries about a certain stubborn mildew on prized garden roses. People no longer know what a botanist does, which is study plants in the wild. The current green conversation gushes over emerging technologies and new design. It is enthralled with the latest eco-iteration (“Is your pen good enough for the planet?”) and focused on calculating carbon footprints. This focus on “modern” and “cutting edge” ignores the history of the movement and leaves me feeling like I exist in backwater, a quaint and irrelevant anachronism. Where, in this discussion, is nature? After all, doesn’t the color green come from good ol’ chlorophyll?

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