Sunday, December 10, 2023

A loving farewell to a friend...

 


The day was gray and foggy, and the ground was soddened with the leftover rain from the day before. It didn’t really matter as we were all dressed for the occasion, and no one seemed to mind the dampness of the day. With hats and gloves and sweatshirts, fifty of us gathered to plant a small prairie under the guidance of Nate Simons of Blue Heron Ministries. We were of all ages from children to those of us much past the age of children, yet we were kindred spirits on this day. Laughing. Talking. Smiling. Crying.

This was not just any prairie planting. This small prairie was dedicated to the gardening legacy of Steve Wahlig. Before starting the ritual of the prairie planting, we gathered together and listened as Ruben Ryan read the eulogy. Not only was this the prairie planting, but it doubled as the memorial service. All was quiet as Ruben pulled the paper from his pocket to read what he had written. Ruben was a great friend of Steve’s and, of course, to Jake as well. He actually started with such a sweet story saying it took him the longest time to figure out which one was Jake, and which one was Steve! He continued his reading as all were hushed on that foggy morning. He talked about the joy the garden gave to Steve and to the community. How many tomato plants did he deliver to the neighbors around him? And the tomatoes as well! He spoke of lunches at the table laden with their homegrown food, and always conversations about the garden, about the land, about Ruben. It was hard wiping the tears from our eyes with gloved hands, but indeed we did. When he was finished, he handed the paper to Jake as we clapped and cheered.

Nate took the stage, so to speak, next as he explained how this would work. He laughed as he said, “This is the biggest group ever gathered for such a small prairie!” Indeed, as I looked around to friends, neighbors and family of the Wahlig’s, I just had to smile. I didn’t know everyone, but planting seeds side by side is a great way to get to know one another.

Nate explained the procedure of planting as he pulled out bag after bag of gathered prairie seed from already established prairies in Steuben County. There were four species of native grasses and 37 species of native Indiana wildflowers. The seeds were dumped into a trough with cracked corn and mixed thoroughly. We planted in two groups of 25 as we lined up with our empty buckets to have them filled with seed. Fred Wooley was on hand to make sure the mixture came out just even. (How did they do that?) With the first 25 ready to plant, we stood shoulder to shoulder and following directions, scattered the seeds from one side to the other and back. I was lucky enough to be in the second group too, so I got to do a double planting. When all the seeds were scattered, the fifty of us lined up, holding hands and danced our way across and back pushing those seeds into the damp earth.

Following the planting, some gathered in the garage to listen to Nate talk about the Seeds of Truth and the restoration of the land into the prairie. The other group went inside for chili and cookies and to shiver off the dampness. I chose both groups. Sitting on buckets in Jake’s garage we listened to Nate and sang, “Joy to the World.” I was glad to follow that crowd into the warm kitchen to share stories with Jake and her children and grandchildren. Finally, even I had to leave. When I arrived home, I took off the old shoes I had worn and noticed seeds among the mud. I took my shoes to my own back yard and clapped them together as children do chalk erasers hoping a few seeds would find a home into my own garden.

Nate said it will take three years before the prairie is blooming and beautiful. To me, that sounded like a perfect love story. Love grows slowly and hopefully blooms in the end.

Very few couples shared the love that Jake and Steve did during their courtship and long marriage. Love doesn’t die. Love lives on, and in this case, love will live on in the prairie that was planted with cold hands and warm hearts.


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