One of my design clients recently asked me whether or not I missed the limelight of being on television. I had to think for a minute before answering...

Certainly, doing TV has its advantages: you get to meet tons of fascinating new people who are truly passionate about what they do; you get to travel all over the world, seeing unimaginably beautiful gardens; and, you get a lot of stuff, sent by companies hoping you’ll try their product and mention it on air. (My tool collection, for instance, is now one of the best around. If there’s a garden gadget made for a specific purpose, chances are we have one.) So, yes, there are certainly benefits. On the down side though, the pay is terrible, the hours tremendously long, and the physical conditions often extreme, especially for a show like “The Victory Garden,” which was filmed primarily outdoors. Many’s the time I spent roasting in 100-degree sun, sweat dripping down my nose, just praying I didn’t look as bedraggled as I felt. (I DID! lol) And then there’s the repetition. Most people don’t realize it, but a two-minute segment can often require multiple hours to film, with multiple repeats. If anything goes wrong, you do it again: miss an idea or phrase, do it again; repeat a particular word too often, do it again. A plane passes over and ruins the sound, or a truck, car, or even a bird, do it again, and again, and again. You can see how something like this would get old really quickly. Mostly however, I think the thing I liked least about hosting was talking, but not doing. I’m one of those kind of guys who learns by getting my hands dirty, and on TV there just isn't time. Observing is fine for a while, but after five seasons on PBS, I found myself really longing to get out and get gardening, rather than just discussing it.

So after hesitating long enough to ponder this bit of mental back-and-forth, my very short reply to the client was “No, not really.” And I think that’s honestly true. While the excitement and cache of being a TV personality is now a thing of the past, what’s left is a great sense of satisfaction for a job roundly considered well done; along with the eager anticipation that comes with entirely new set of adventures to pursue.

And that, my friends, is ample reward for any man.