Taming the Wild Wisteria

I took a step back, put down the pruning shears and gave my aching arms a rest. At the same time, I took the opportunity to scrutinise my handiwork. From the look of things, I hadn’t made much of a mark on the girth of the wisteria. A very healthy specimen it was. The huge vine’s many shoots waved at me in the breeze, like mocking tentacles. Wiping the sweat from my brow unsuccessfully with the back of my hand, I picked up the shears again and made another attempt to reduce the bulk of the plant. It’s sprawling tendrils seemed to twist and wind everywhere. Sam had even remarked on the plant’s ambitiousness. "Mr. Frodo," he’d remarked one day after tangling with the plant, "Oi believe Oi could prune that there plant every single day and you’d almost never know it. You can almost see it growing in front o’ yer very eyes!"

I was inclined to agree. The massive vine seemed intent on taking over my property, and on my last few trips into the garden I could almost have sworn that the wisteria had deliberately assailed me. So after tripping over a mass of thick low growing tendrils that snaked across the path, I decided on impulse that the plant needed to be tamed, and tamed at that very moment. I’m not usually given to whims, but we Bagginses can be a tenacious lot, ourselves, when we get an idea in our heads.

As it happened, it was Sam’s day off. Not to worry, I told myself, I figured I was perfectly capable of handling the pruning job on my own. I might have accomplished the task a little easier if I could have laid hold of a larger pair of pruning shears. After rummaging in vain through the garden shed, all I could find was a small pair. I had no idea where Sam might have stored the others. No matter, I assumed the smaller pair would suffice adequately. All the better to grab onto the vine with one hand and snip with the other.

Now, I know that plants cannot think, plot or scheme, nor are they capable of foresight or for that matter, revenge. But this one would almost make one suspect otherwise. For even as I clipped and snipped away in a frenzy, I had to fight off an occasional vine that latched on to me, snagging itself in my hair or wrapping around my neck. But I was determined to reduce the offending vegetation to a manageable size. I grew ever more determined with each snip of the shears, clipping off any waving tendril that I could manage to catch hold of.

I had done a fair job with the growth that was within arm’s reach, but the wisteria had also sent its vines twining up other plants like a stealthy serpent. It had made a good start at insinuating its way up nearby lilac. I made a grab for one of the tendrils that waved at me in a cheeky fashion from one of the lilac’s branches. The breeze picked up and whisked the vine out of my reach. I stretched on tiptoe and made another grab and just caught the end of the vine with my fingertips. It promptly snapped off, leaving the rest of the vine free to waggle in the breeze. Gritting my teeth, I stood on tiptoe again, stretched out both arms, still grasping the pruning shears in one hand and caught hold of the waving shoot, whereupon I lost my grip on the shears and plummeted, sharp end down, towards the ground. The big toe of my left foot intercepted them before they hit the ground, whereupon they bounced off my toe, after inflicting a severe, stabbing pain, (and when I say stabbing, I mean that in every literal sense of the word), then skittered across the gravel path. Straightaway, blood welled up out of the wound and covered my big toe and a few of its neighbours.

Despite being in agony, once the initial shock was over, I started to hobble back to my hole, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. I remember wondering at one point, how so much blood could come out of a toe, and a fearful thought crossed my mind; suppose it wasn’t coming from just one appendage. (I certainly couldn’t tell from the pain, the entire lower portion of my foot was feeling the hurt, and I couldn’t access the severity of the wound for all the blood.) Suppose I was even missing a toe or two! After all, I hadn’t exactly stopped to count. Visions of Sam scouring the garden paths for my missing toes filled my mind.

By the time I made it inside, the pain was if anything worse. My foot had now begun to throb. I grabbed the first article of cloth that I could lay my hands on, which happened to be a handkerchief snatched from the pocket of a jacket left lying over a chair. And, thank goodness for that chair, I thought to myself as I collapsed in it and resting my injured foot on my knee, I wrapped the linen around it in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. As I did so, I could at least feel that all of my toes seemed to be present and accounted for. Merely touching my big toe was almost enough to send me into a paroxysm of pain.

I was just about to peek, carefully, under the bloody handkerchief when the door bell jangled. I started, letting the cloth and my hand accidentally drop back onto my toe. This elicited a sharp intake of breath on my part and did nothing to put me in a better temper. There was no question of my getting up to answer the door. I was quite honestly tempted to just ignore the bell. But I didn’t, instead, I called out in a loud voice, "Come in!"

There was a moment’s hesitation and then the door was pushed slowly inwards. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I might have jumped up and given my guest a hearty welcome, for the visitor was someone I hadn’t seen in some time, Farmer Maggot’s son, Orgulas.

Orgie, as he is most often known as, had just opened his mouth in greeting when his eyes fell upon my foot with its blood soaked cloth.

"Frodo! What in the Shire happened?"

I gave him a brief account of the accident, with a growing feeling of ineptitude. I couldn’t help but think that something like this would never have happened to Sam.

"Looks as if you’ve certainly done yourself up well, my friend!" Orgie declared.

I managed to summon up a sickly grin on his behalf, but his pronouncement didn’t do anything to make me feel less the incompetent clod.

"It appears as if my visit was timed just right. And, since I’m here, and have a little knowledge of the healing arts, I might as well make myself useful." Said Orgie, removing his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves. "I’ll need some hot water and clean cloth. Don’t you get up! Just tell me where I can find the linens."

"Oh, don’t worry! I have no intention of moving unless it’s absolutely necessary!" I joked.

Orgie grinned. "Good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour."

"I’m just glad I haven’t lost my toe!"

"Not yet, unless I find it necessary to remove it..."

My forced smile faded.

"Just kidding! My turn to joke, Frodo." He laughed. "Don’t mind me. Now point me in the direction of the linen closet."

Orgie disappeared to retrieve the bandages and hot water and I rested my head against the back of the chair while I waited, trying to ignore the throbbing in my foot. He returned in fairly short order and removed the bloody rag from my toe.

"You know, Frodo, from the looks of all this blood, I may have to stitch up your toe. But, I’ll be able to tell more, once I get it cleaned up." He said as he set to work wiping away the blood.

Some of the blood had already dried, but a tiny well spring of it still oozed out of the gash every time Orgie tried to wipe it away. He gave a low whistle.

"What?" I questioned. "That bad?"

"Well, stitching won’t do any good." He replied.

For a brief instant I feared he might say something about having to remove the toe again, and this time mean it!

"Seems the shears split your toe right through the toenail." He continued. "There’s no way I can stitch that up. All I can do is clean it up, and put a dressing on it. Do you happen to have any ointment? "

I groaned as my fingers dug into the chair cushion. "I think there is a jar of ointment in the first kitchen cupboard. Sam left it here, but I’m not sure if it’s still good, though. I’ve had it for some time."

"Well, we shall see..."He took another piece of linen and had me hold it firmly around the toe while he went to fetch the medication.

He returned with a small blue jar topped with a lid that seemed to be giving him a bit of trouble. Grimacing, he twisted the top determinedly and it gave way, releasing noxious fumes into the air. Orgie made another face, but much to my surprise declared the ointment quite fit for use.

"How can you tell?" I inquired.

He chuckled and replied, "Because I happen to recognise the smell of one of the ingredients and I can tell you quite confidently that the plant that went into the making of this stuff doesn’t smell any better when its green and growing. Now...let’s see your foot again..." He said as he pulled a small stool over to where I sat and settled himself on it.

I was more than happy to relinquish my toe to his care, for at this moment it still almost all I could do to keep from curling up into a ball and crying like a babe. However, the moment he leaned over and wiped the still oozing blood from my toe, excruciating pain shot up my foot and leg. Without a thought I lashed out with my free foot, which connected with his chin and sent the stool toppling and Orgie sprawling on the floor.

"Steady on, Frodo!" he said, as he sat up and rubbed his jaw.

"Sorry, Orgie," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll try my best not to attack you again."

With that said, Orgie started to clean my toe again, this time a bit more gently. He applied the ointment with a wary expression, as if he was on his guard for flying appendages. Nevertheless, I was still grateful that he made a swift job of it. He suggested that since he was only here for a day or so to visit with his betrothed, I have my cousin Mundee, who had some skill with healing, change the bandage and check for infection.

"NO!" I shouted, perhaps a bit louder than necessary judging from the look he gave me. "Really," I said, trying to make light of the situation. "I would prefer that you not inform Mundee of my... um...unfortunate mishap."

"Why ever not?" He was truly nonplussed.

I hesitated, then admitted, "Because, if Mundee tends to my wound, then It’s only a matter of time before Bennie gets wind of it, as well....and...you see... well, truth is...I’m afraid trouble would only come of it! Besides, they might kill me with kindness! Anyway...I really don’t relish the thought of word spreading round town about my ineptitude with gardening tools."

Orgie regarded me with an amused expression, but stated in all seriousness, "You really need to have a healer look at it," then he added with a smile, "but knowing your cousins, you might be better off if I just removed your toe right now with a dull knife."

"If Bennie and Mundee find out that I’m incapacitated, you might as well remove my head while you're at it, Orgie," I jested back.

Before taking his leave, Orgie gave me his sworn promise not to make mention my accident. "Although, I don’t know how you intend to go about hiding it." He said. "You’d better lay low for a while. Have Sam put out the word that you’ve gone on holiday and send him for any supplies that you might need."

I thanked him for his untimely aid and offered him tea, adding regretfully that I couldn’t wait on him properly, as a host should a guest. He waved me off politely and made sure that I promised to change the bandages and keep a close eye out for any sign of swelling of redness that might entail infection.

So, here I sit, my journal in my lap, and my foot propped upon my desk, swathed in layers of thick bandages. And even though I felt a bit silly, I’m thankful that Orgie happened to show up when he did. I’m also thankful that Sam should be back tomorrow and he can have at the wisteria without my aid!