You know the feeling. You're a confident gardener, and you know that using the proper botanical names of plants is more precise and avoids confusion. But the prospect of trying to pronounce those tongue-twisting Greek- and Latin-based names gives you the willies.

Is the species name microphylla, you wonder nervously, supposed to be pronounced "my-crow-FILL-a" or "my-crah-FY-la"? Is liatris-the species name for the prairie plants commonly known as gayfeather or blazing star-supposed to sound like "lee-AT-ris" or "LYE-AT-ris"?

Have no fear. The experts are here. We asked two teachers of Latin, Loyola University assistant professor Edwin Menes and Lake Forest academy instructor David Wick, for help.

It turns out that if the species name for the perennial goatsbeard, Aruncus dioicus, makes you want to say "oy!" you're halfway there. Dioicus is pronounced "dee-OY-kus," says Wick.

Most botanical names have two words, the first denoting the genus and the second the species. Goatsbeard's genus name, aruncus, is easy and obvious ("uh-RUNK-us") because it doesn't have any of those tricky strings of vowels. Menes notes that we can hit many botanical terms on the first try-multiflora, variegata, paniculata, splendens-because they have familiar letter combinations.

Both Wick and Menes say that improper pronunciation is not a terrible flaw-outside their own classrooms, that is. "You can probably get along fine in most nurseries just using common names," says Menes, himself an experienced gardener. "The thing is to do your best. Somebody will either help you or look pityingly on you. Don't be intimidated, not at all."

The teachers emphasize that pronunciation rules are not ironclad, anyway. Often what's technically accurate doesn't trip off the English-speaking tongue efficiently, so it has been changed by common usage.

On top of that, many botanical names are actually mongrels, such as the German surname of a botanist with a Latin suffix tacked on the back, so the laws of the classical languages may not apply.

Nevertheless, we asked Menes and Wick for judgments on several botanical names that trip up gardeners. We also sought some general rules that will help you speak with greater confidence about your favorite plants. Here's what they said:

- The letter "c" is usually a hard sound, like a "k." But before an "e," "i" or "eae," it makes the "s" sound. Similarly, "g" is always hard, as in "gas," unless it comes before "e" or "i." So the perennial geum is "JEE-um," but "gardenia" starts out like "garage."

- "Ch" is always a K sound, whether it's in chionanthus, for fringe tree; chelone, for turtleheads; or chionodoxa, for glory-of-the-snow.

- There are virtually no silent letters in Greek or Latin, says Wick. That means the spidery annual cleome rhymes with "homey," not "home."

- Botanical family names end in a trafffic jam of vowels: "eae," as in asteraceae and liliaceae. Latin purists would see two "ee" sounds there, one coming from the first "e" and the other from the "ae," Menes says. That makes the family that includes asters, chrysanthemums and many other daisy-like flowers sound like this: "ast-er-A-see-ee." "But ease of pronunciation smoothes that out to `ast-er-A-see,' " Menes adds. Often, a plant named for a person has "ii" attached to the end of his or her surname-davidii, thunbergii. Menes says it's correct to pronounce it "ee-eye," as in "duh-VID-ee-eye."

- Another double vowel is "oe," as in oenethera, the genus of several North American primroses and sundrops. It's "ee-NETH-er-a," according to Menes.

- The letter "i" is usually pronounced "ih" in Latin, Menes says, which makes ipomoea, for morning glory, "ih-po-ME-a." But in the suffix "-inus," it's usually "eye" instead. That means pinus, the pine genus, is "PYE-nis." And if it is followed by a vowel, it's "ee," as in dioicus and liatris. That's "lee-AT-ris," and you can tell your friends who keep calling it "LYE-at-ris" that Wick says so.

- Smokebush, cotinus coggygria, is a popular plant with stumbling blocks in both its genus and species names. Some gardeners say "coat-EYE-nus," and others say "COT-in-us." The first is correct, Menes says, and is a hand-me-down of a Greek word meaning "wild olive."

The species name, coggygria, looks like a typo and stops a lot of gardeners in their tracks. Menes says the technically correct pronunciation would be "cohg-JIG-re-a," with the first syllable rhyming with rogue. But he notes that the "g-j" transition is almost universally shortened to a "j" sound, making it "co-JIG-re-a."

- A lot of trouble comes from wondering where to put the accent. In a two-syllable word, the first is always accented, Wick says. On longer words, Menes and Wick both say, the accent is almost always on the second-to-last or third-to-last syllable. For example, because we all know of the Parthenon, with the first syllable usually accented, we stumble on "parthenocissus," or Virginia creeper. The correct emphasis is on the fourth syllable, for "par-then-o-SIS-us."

- As proof that it's possible to be too correct, Wick notes that echinacea, the native plant, commonly known as coneflower, that is very popular in herbal remedies, really ought to be pronounced "eh-keen-AY-kay-a," which almost nobody does. "Eh-kin-AY-sha" rules.

"Over the centuries, people have generally taken the route of easiest pronunciation," Wick says, "so no gardener ever has to worry about getting things exactly right."