Every now and again something happens that leaves you momentarily lost for words — which, as many who know me will appreciate, does not happen terribly often!

At the Australian Institute of Horticulture Biennial Awards Dinner in Adelaide on 5 September 2026, I was honoured with Life Membership of the Australian Institute of Horticulture.

Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.

It was rather emotional, enormously appreciated and, for a few moments at least, I really didn’t know what to say.

AIH has been part of my professional life for more than 43 years. When you have belonged to an organisation for that long, it becomes rather difficult to work out where its history stops and yours begins.

Along the way I have been a member, Registered Horticulturist, Fellow, National Councillor, President and served in various executive roles. These days I have the privilege of being Chair of Fellows and continue to dabble — perhaps rather more than dabble — in membership, professional recognition and the many other things that seem to find their way onto my desk.

But a list of positions doesn’t really tell the story.

Forty-three years means an extraordinary number of meetings. Some excellent, some productive and a few that possibly could have been an email.

There have been conferences, workshops, field trips, awards, submissions, policy papers, phone calls, emails, cups of tea and the occasional restorative glass of wine.

There have also been some wonderful friendships.

I’ve met horticulturists from all walks of the profession, in Australia and overseas, and learnt an enormous amount from them. There have been people who challenged my thinking, people whose knowledge left me in awe and many with whom I have shared a healthy difference of opinion and still thoroughly enjoyed dinner afterwards.

I have always considered differences of opinion a healthy part of professional and everyday life. We should be prepared to put our thoughts on the table, but equally prepared to listen when someone puts forward a different view. I may learn something from it and change my thinking. I may learn something and still not agree. Either outcome is perfectly fine.

Put a group of horticulturists in a room and ask them for an opinion and you are very unlikely to leave with only one.

And perhaps that is exactly as it should be.

Different experiences bring different perspectives, and a profession is stronger when people are comfortable contributing them.

Through all of those conversations, one thing has remained constant for me: I care deeply about horticulture and its place as a profession.

Being a good horticulturist requires far more than knowing the name of a plant — although knowing the name certainly helps!

We work with plants, soils, water and living systems, but horticulture also reaches into food production, healthy communities, biodiversity, urban landscapes, cooler cities and towns, human wellbeing and the places in which we all live.

That is why I have spent so much of my professional life pushing for better education, competency standards, professional recognition, continuing professional development and recognition of the knowledge and experience horticulturists bring to the table.

Much of that work happens quietly in the background.

Professional organisations are rather like gardens in that respect. Everyone admires the finished result, but somebody still has to do the weeding.

There are papers to read, words to ponder over, members to help, events to organise, submissions to prepare, records to keep and the occasional awkward question to ask.

I have asked a few of those.

What has given me perhaps the greatest pleasure over the years, though, has been seeing other horticulturists grow in confidence and experience — particularly younger people entering the profession — and then watching them begin to share their own knowledge with others.

I have increasingly come to believe that knowledge carries a responsibility with it.

If you have been fortunate enough to spend decades learning your craft, you should leave some of that knowledge behind for those who follow. Preferably without making them repeat all of your mistakes — although I suspect every generation will insist upon making a few of its own.

There is, however, one person without whom much of my own journey would have been very different — my darling husband, Peter.

When Peter became so ill and had to retire, life changed considerably for both of us. Yet in 2006, rather than asking me to stay close to home or put my professional ambitions aside, he did quite the opposite. He encouraged me to take the opportunity in front of me, spread my wings and forge ahead with a new chapter as a senior practising horticulturist.

And so — Bon Voyage to Singapore, and to other fascinating and horticulturally exciting adventures!

That decision opened a completely new chapter in my professional life. Through it all, Peter’s support was selfless and unwavering. He took enormous pride in what I was doing, even when his own circumstances had changed so dramatically. I will always be grateful for the freedom and encouragement he gave me to keep learning, working and taking on new challenges.

Life has taught me that there is considerable truth in those old sayings: “Every cloud has a silver lining” and “When one door closes, another opens.” Sometimes the silver lining takes a while to reveal itself, and occasionally you need a little courage to walk through the door.

And then there is the advice from my father that has followed me throughout my life. Whenever things became difficult, I could almost hear him:

“Don’t whinge, Annette. You woke up this morning.”

I still remind myself of that every day.

So, when I look at Life Membership, I don’t really see it as an ending or a reward for having been around for a very long time.

I see it as recognition of a journey — and of all the people who have been part of it.

My sincere thanks to the Australian Institute of Horticulture for this very special honour, and particularly to the colleagues, friends and fellow horticulturists who have shared those 43-plus years with me.

And, most especially, thank you Peter. This journey was ours too.

Apparently, after all this time, AIH has decided it is too late to get rid of me.

Probably just as well.

I’m certainly not ready for the rocking chair yet.