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That Blooming Wendell--that’s what almost everyone in the area called
Wendell.
It
was definitely a term of endearment. Wendell was a retired farmer who had
moved to town. He had worked hard all of his life. He had raised a large
family. Most people thought he had moved to town so he could rest and take
it easy. Such a plan was not for Wendell. He became a gardener. A hobby
at first, but then it evolved into an obsession.
It
was a rare garden in a 5-mile area that did not include at least one plant
that had originally been grown in Wendell’s garden. Wendell had all of the
things that a good gardener needs. He had incredible patience and the
thirst for knowledge. These things are so important, but Wendell had the one
thing that makes a person willing to pull weeds and till the ground.
Wendell had a strong belief. Wendell believed that each seed he planted
would grow into a miracle. To put a seed into the soil and to expect the
right amount of sun, the perfect supply of rain, and the lack of pests
requires faith—lots of faith. Wendell had this faith. He needed to feel
the soil, to enjoy its smell.
There is a connection between a human and the earth. We have a need to dig,
to sow, to weed (well, maybe we don’t have a real need to weed) and to
reap. Wendell could grow anything and grow it well enough to win prize
ribbons at the fair. Wendell kept no gardening secrets, he relished sharing
any tricks or tips he might have about gardening. He was president of the
local garden club and volunteered for all kinds of projects that had a
horticultural bent. He raised zucchini. I know, I know--everyone can raise
zucchini, but there was something different, something better about
Wendell’s zucchini. However, it was still zucchini and a man can only use
so much zucchini. Each year, at the time the zucchini began to ripen,
friends and neighbors began to avoid Wendell. That Blooming Wendell became
another person at that season. He became a man bearing zucchini. Wendell
became driven, with just one thing on his mind. That thing was to get rid
of all of the zucchini he had. The problem was that there was no end to the
amount of zucchini that Wendell possessed. We all took to locking our
vehicles at night; otherwise Wendell would sneak a box of his precious
zucchini into the backseats of our cars. More than once, I found the squash
hiding in the box of my pickup.
Everyone said that Wendell had the greenest thumb they’d ever seen and that
he could grow anything. That was not quite true. Wendell could never get
his Christmas cactus to bloom. He tried everything, no matter how weird it
sounded. He had a beautiful Christmas cactus. It was originally his
grandmother’s on his father’s side. Wendell treated that plant like it was
royalty, but it refused to reward him with any blooms. He would not give up
and told everyone that someday the plant would bloom.
One day, I received a phone call. Wendell had been diagnosed with a cancer
of the worst kind--inoperable and terminal. He continued to garden as long
as his strength would allow. The disease quickly sapped his energy and
Wendell took to bed. His family gathered at his house, waiting for the
moment that most of them had believed would never happen.
One morning, a granddaughter was helping clean Wendell’s house when she
noticed that Wendell’s Christmas cactus was blooming. It wasn’t just
blooming, it was blooming gloriously. She was amazed and joyful to see her
grandfather’s plant blooming. A plant that had become a family joke because
of its refusal to flower. A plant that her grandfather had waited a
lifetime to see bloom.
She ran to inform her grandfather. She found him dead in his bed. “He
looked so at peace,” she related later. Did Wendell see the blooming
Christmas cactus? I don’t know, but I am sure that he is today surrounded by
Christmas cacti, blooming in all their glory 24 hours a day, every day.
I
know this because Wendell believed.
©AL Batt 2001
71622 325 St.
Hartland, MN 56042
SnoEowl@aol.com |
