Greetings from the New Haven train station, where I missed the Metro-North train to Grand Central by less than a minute. I'm headed to New York for a day of meetings, after spending the last day and a half at the very first Murder 203 conference, a great time and a smashing success. I spent quality time with Karen Olson, Alison Gaylin and Reed Coleman, among others, and came away with even more books to read.
My Internet access has been spotty for the last several days and will be spotty until Tuesday night, but I wanted to check in briefly because I've had a few messages asking whether I was okay. This is not only flattering but also a great relief, as it reassures me that if I ever do suffer a serious accident when I'm home alone, Dizzy won't have time to eat me before someone notices I'm missing.
Anyway, master gardeners. Spring is in full bloom here in southern Connecticut, and I've heard the term "master gardener" used several times over the weekend. Is this just a description, or a term of art? Does a master gardener have slave gardeners working for him/her?
I'll go look this up now, but as with so many things, I expect the reality will be less exciting than what I imagine.