Garden guru Walter Reeves (BS '73) happily spreads his gospel of growing things and love of nature to novice and expert alike

B Y - D A N N Y - C . - F L A N D E R S

ou just know when you visit Walter Reeves' (BS '73) garden that you're in for a photo feast worthy of a slick magazine—lush manicured lawn, borders spilling with a kaleidoscope of blooms, fountains gushing with a tranquil flow. Wipe off those rose colored glasses: Georgia's gregarious guru of gardening has a "yard": Busted leaf shredders and old bicycle parts bulge from the double carport, leaving little room for his 1990 Toyota Camry. Wind chimes made of old CDs clang in the breeze. Raised planting beds spew with a number of hits and misses.

"Everyone constantly tells us, 'I'll bet you have a beautiful yard,' but we don't," says Sandi Reeves, Walter's wife. "I'm the one always trying to tidy things up, but, being more of an experimenter, Walter will plant 50 different plants in one bed and then leave them all to battle it out."

That's because he's gardening just the way he likes it, the kind of trial and error he urges of others. Reeves—the affable answer-man of two highly rated radio and TV gardening shows, popular Atlanta newspaper columnist, and sought-after celeb at flower shows—prefers to bask in the sunshine of horticulture, not the limelight. He revels in doing what feels good, not what others expect of him.

His mission is using mass media to spread the gospel of gardening, the No. 1 hobby in America, particularly in Atlanta's near-perfect climate for growing. With his never-met-a-stranger personality, he helps everyone, from the poor radio caller in Valdosta struggling to grow fescue to the affluent housewife in Buckhead whining over the mow-and-blow service that whacked off her roses. His sermons carry the universal message: Gardening is no different from life. You make mistakes; you learn from them.

Michael Dirr, a retired UGA horticulture professor and nationally renowned plant expert, believes Reeves connects with audiences better than any other gardening personality—and between cable TV and the Internet, there are many. "He has the pulpit to promote environmental stewardship like water management, low chemical inputs, the best plants, love of nature," says Dirr. "I believe he practices what he preaches and brings this credibility to listeners."

Oddly, having recently retired after 28 years as a Cooperative Extension Service agent, Reeves didn't always have such religion. In retrospect, he cites his south Fayette County farm upbringing for a bittersweet romance with the soil.

"I hated gardening," says Reeves, whose boyish grin and lean build belie his 51 years. "I thought if I could ever get off that farm and live on a paved road in a house with indoor plumbing, I would just die. I constantly dreamed of the day when I would see that vegetable patch fade away in the rear-view mirror when I went to college."

At the hands of an autocratic father, who died in 1999, Walter so detested hoeing, weeding, and harvesting under the blistering blanket of the July sun that he chose to major in chemistry at UGA, with a fantasy of working in the cool indoors.

It didn't take him long, though, to figure out he was born for the sun, to not only touch the warm earth again but also to share the excitement with others. One of the few things he remembers liking about gardening were the moments he shared with a grandmother, known as "Bubber," who relished growing flowers for simply the fun and beauty of it.

There was little time for flowers, however, growing up on a farm as the oldest of Frank and Frances Reeves' five kids. His parents met when his mother, a teacher, moved from south Fulton to Fayette County to start a farm while saving money to attend law school. Friends threw a housewarming party for her, and Frank Reeves dropped by.

"She had a tractor, and he had a mule, and soon after they got married," their son recalls. "Had it not been for their interest in gardening, I would not be here today."

Together, Frank and Frances Reeves raised 4,000 chickens on the eight-acre farm, selling eggs and vegetables as a livelihood. Frances also peddled World Book Encyclopedias, through which their son, a star student, was able to win a college scholarship.

"Even when competing in a debate or contest, he would always end up helping his competition," says 84-year-old Frances Reeves, who still lives on the Inman farm. "I admired that in him."

Most of those activities involved 4-H, which his mother had pressed the county extension agent to offer. "My parents were very, very emphatic about education," says Reeves, who credits the program for launching his career. After finishing college and realizing he missed agriculture, he joined the extension service, working in Clayton County as a 4-H leader in the schools. He later moved to the DeKalb office.

In 1985, WGST radio asked area agents to answer gardening questions on a Saturday morning show. Within two years, the station managers named him host but later killed the show in a format change. Reeves, who had been an occasional guest on Kathy Henderson's WSB call-in program, became host of "The Lawn & Garden Show" when she left in 1994.

Today, the show, which airs at 6 a.m., is the top-rated Saturday morning show among Atlanta area stations.

For four hours, Reeves answers questions on everything from the best time to prune hydrangeas to how to prevent voles from munching on nandinas.

"We get calls from Savannah to Oklahoma, a very broad-based audience of young, new homeowners with their first yards to elderly people who are the true hobbyists," says Jason Sipe, the show's producer. "Between 6 and 7, we get some weird calls, mostly from people who have been out all night," plus legitimate listeners who work odd hours, such as flight attendants and truck drivers.

Then there was the private investigator who telephoned during a predawn stakeout. "He said he was squinched behind the dash trying to videotape a woman," Reeves says. "He was bored so he decided to call and ask a gardening question!"

Although Reeves screens calls to avoid repetitious questions—but answers the rejected during breaks—Sipe says he's never seen him stumped.

That doesn't mean Reeves hasn't goofed. "Early on, someone wanted to know what to do about his Confederate rose," he recalls. "At the time, I didn't know it wasn't a rose at all but a hibiscus."

After dishing out erroneous pruning information, the switchboard lit up with callers, anxious to set him straight. Now, in addition to his reference books, Reeves logs onto the Internet at the same time he dons his headset.

Over the years, Reeves' down-home personality and vast knowledge of science made him an instant celebrity with both avid gardeners and fescue junkies. He later became a weekly columnist for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution's Home & Garden section and a favorite guest on cable and public television shows.

Two years ago, when GPTV and the University of Georgia decided to launch "Georgia Gardener," the choice for host was obvious.

On the twice-weekly show, now produced solely by the University and called "Gardening in Georgia," Reeves tackles seasonal topics, heavy on demonstration for the gardening consumer who can't get enough of how-to. He tries to build their confidence—this from a man who once caused an explosion of pig manure in his bathroom while trying to generate methane in the tub.

He's the first to admit it's not easy making some topics—like how to create a compost pile or build a tomato plant tepee—entertaining. "I once wore a dress on the show," he says, "to talk about top-dressing beds with mulch." He also sang "Some Enchanted Evening" to a squash plant "to get it in the mood for pollination."

And though Reeves doesn't think of himself as funny—his mantra is "green side up, brown side down"—his simple, upbeat approach prevents four hours of gardening radio from becoming a yawner.

"He's the David Letterman of horticulture," says Tim Smalley, who teaches horticulture at UGA. "He gets his message across in a very, very entertaining way."

Erica Glasener, an Atlanta horticulturist who is co-authoring a second gardening book with Reeves, recalls an appearance on the live show when she mentioned dining alfresco: "He interrupted and asked, 'You were naked?'"

His sense of humor is just one key to sifting the seriousness out of gardening.

"He has the ability to make everyone, from the beginner to expert, feel comfortable when they call in, then gets them excited," says Glasener, who hosts HGTV's "A Gardener's Diary." "He makes them think and stretch their confidence while never taking himself too seriously. It is just gardening after all—not like he's saving lives, but he's enhancing their quality of life."

Two years ago, the extension service, recognizing Reeves' influence, made him its "horticulture educator" while relieving him of his dual duties as agent. Reeves, who never took a sick day in 28 years, left the state payroll but continues his media work as an independent contractor.

Reeves has become a savvy media analyst when it comes to reaching an audience.

"There's just so much exposure to gardening these days," he says. "In the mid-70s, there was a huge interest in houseplants. Now, I get maybe three calls a year about them. It's all about gardening, which people are finding they appreciate because Mama used to do it and it's relaxing. They're finding gardening is not just something for hort heads."

And the Internet is spreading that passion, says Reeves, who has his own Web site: www.walterreeves.com.

Despite his diverse vehicles for delivering advice, Reeves insists he has no favorite medium. The variety, he says, is what keeps the counseling business interesting. That and escaping to other hobbies, such as doing home repairs for his DeKalb County neighbors and listening to his collection of Garrison Keillor's "Prairie Home Companion" tapes.

"All extension agents have a little bit of missionary in their blood, so there are times when I do feel like I'm spreading the word," he says. "You have that congregation." 

Still, "5 o'clock on Saturday morning does get old sometimes," he says of the hour he leaves his Oak Grove home for the Midtown radio station.

Sandi Reeves believes what drives her husband is simply doing what he loves. "He's lucky to have that kind of passion about his work—especially when you consider he rejected gardening for so long after having grown up on the farm," says the elementary schoolteacher, who met Reeves through their hairstylist. "It's become a pleasure for him because it was his choice to do it, not because his father said he had to."

Reeves is cognizant of that as Grey, his son from a previous marriage, grows up. The 11-year-old has won blue ribbons in the Southeastern Flower Show, but his gardening interest waffles, his dad says.

Reeves recalls from his own childhood the countless nights of working past sundown by the headlights of a pickup, his father barking orders about the proper way to saw seeds, yank weeds, spread fertilizer, pull corn.

Three years ago, when 81-year-old Frank Reeves returned home from the hospital to die of cancer, he continued to oversee the farm from his bedroom window. "On his deathbed, he was able to say, 'Tie up those beans tighter!'" his son recalls.

"Now when I'm gardening at my own home, it's gratifying to me when I look up and realize I'm suddenly working by moonlight, that I'm still out there because of him and a love he instilled in me," Reeves says. "I'll laugh to myself and shout, 'I'm pulling another Frank!'"

Back to Top . Up Front . Features . Alumni Profiles . Class Notes . Back to Current Issue