Jill Churchill - Mulch Ado About Nothing

“No. Of course not. I've put up with some pretty obnoxious people that you wouldn't have put up with, but I'm not a complete moron.”

As they pulled up in front of the community center, a strange man, seeing Jane struggle to get out the door of the van, rushed to help her.

“How did you do that to yourself?" he asked.

“An elephant pushed me off a circus van," Jane said. "Thank you so much for helping me.”

The man looked astonished and said, "Wow!"

“A circus van?" Shelley hissed as they went up the ramp.

“I've got a list of interesting answers. I knew he'd like that one better than anybody's liked the truth.”

The class was assembled when they entered the room. All but Ursula. Dr. Eastman, with his prize pink marigolds on display again, had just begun to speak and waited while Jane thrashed the crutches among the chairs and seated herself. Maybe she had insulted Ursula and she wasn't coming to the class any longer, Jane thought.

But her hopes were dashed a minute later. Ursula bustled in, speaking before she was completely in the room because a backpack strap had caught in the door. "I'm sorry to be late, but I was doing last-minute tidying of my garden." She smiled around the room, waiting for admiration.

“Let's begin now," Dr. Eastman said.

Today his talk was about the patent process, using words like "taxon" and "genotype" and "tissue culture" and "approach grafting." Jane was at sea and didn't want to be the dummy who asked what taxon meant. Besides, the outside of her calf was itching like crazy. She pulled a pencil out of her pocket and ran the pencil down inside the cast to try to reach the itch.

Suddenly Ursula, who'd sat behind her, reached forward and snatched the pencil from her hand. "Lead poisoning," she whispered just loudly enough for everyone to hear her. "Wait a minute.”

She rummaged in one of her bags and brought up a very long, fat crochet hook with a nicely rounded tip. "Use this.”

Jane tried to pretend to be listening avidly, while scrabbling around inside the cast, chasing the itch.

Finally the instructor came back to plain English, saying, "The plant must remain stable in its qualities through a great many means of asexual reproduction, such as cuttings, grafting, and budding.”

He went on, "If you're interested in trying to get a patent, there are a number of pieces of valuable advice. One: Get early and expert confidential advice from someone who really knows plant patent law, and be prepared to pay for it."

“He's trying to convince us to try this so he can make money off us," Shelley whispered.

“Fat chance," Jane whispered back.

“Two: Remember that country boundaries are imaginary for plants. You should look into worldwide patents and make yourself familiar with foreign catalogs. Three: Keep your work as secret as possible. Do your climatic testing with trusted professionals. Don't give out samples to friends. And four: If someone learns of your project and offers substantial money up front for exclusive rights, run away. Plant patents on attractive plants that catch the public's interest can make enormous profits for you if you retain your rights.”

He glanced down fondly at the desk where his pink marigolds were sitting. "These, by the way, have been registered with the patent office and will be grown over the next two years before release to the public. I have contracts already signed with hundreds of nurseries and mail-order plant firms."

“In other words, you're going to get very, very rich?" Ursula piped up. "I hope you'll consider using some of the money for good causes. I could suggest some to you."

“Thank you, but I have good causes of my own," Dr. Eastman said stiffly. "As I was saying, five: A well-planned full-scale introduction of the plant to the public is the only way to go. Certain companies will act as agents for you on a sliding scale of royalties. The first year is the most expensive. As much as forty percent of your royalties on the plants shipped."

“Forty percent for an agent?" Stefan Eckert exclaimed. "Golly! I'm writing a textbook on educational management and I'd heard that agents only charged ten to fifteen percent."

“I have no knowledge of literary agents," Dr. Eastman said as if he were proud of this fact. "As I was saying, six: You should know a lot about your triallers. They should have experience in the plant type, be known as efficient and prompt in reporting results, and have a solid reputation for keeping confidential testing quiet.”

Only Stefan and old Arnold Waring were taking extensive notes of the lecture, but freshly pressed Charles Jones and his neighbor Miss Martha Winstead were paying very close attention and seemed extremely interested.

“Now we'll take a break for about five minutes, and come back and let Mrs. Nowack order us around and assign drivers and passengers." This might have been insulting, except that he said itwith a sincere smile at Shelley. "And we'll be off then to see my garden and Mrs. Appledorn's."

“Ms. Appledorn, if you don't mind," Ursula said.

Nine S,*,

Shelley drove Jane and Miss Martha Winstead."Do you know the way?" Miss Winstead asked.

“Approximately," Shelley said.

“I can show you the house."

“Oh. . you knew Dr. Eastman before this class?" Jane asked.

Miss Winstead turned slightly in the front seat and said to Jane in the seat behind her, "All too well.”

There wasn't time to question this remark before they arrived at a small white colonial home with clipped hedges and lush grass in the front yard, but no flowers at all.

“Isn't that odd," Jane said. "I'm seeing so many more front-yard gardens in the last few years. You'd think a professional in the field would have lots of gardens."

“It's a contagious thing," Miss Winstead said. "In the fifties and sixties you never saw gardens in front yards. Flowering shrubs like forsythia and dogwoods were barely acceptable. For some reason most homeowners thought gardens should be private. But when I put a garden along my driveway, the next year there were two small garden window boxes on either side of me, and some trees that had hostas and impatiens around them. The year after that, two of my neighbors made nice raised beds of begonias and dracaena. Now nearly every house on the block has something flowering in 'public,' so to speak. But there are still whole blocks where nobody has started the trend. Mrs. Jeffry, may I help you get out of the back of the vehicle?”

With Shelley at the wheel, Jane expected that they would be the first to arrive. But Dr. Eastman was already at home. He must be an even faster driver than Shelley. A horrifying thought.

“No, thanks," Jane said. "I'm getting the hang of it." She was afraid she'd fall out the door and crush Miss Winstead, though on second thought, Miss Winstead looked quite durable.

Dr. Eastman was standing at a gate at the side of the house to welcome the class, but didn't appear to notice Miss Winstead. Instead, he spoke pointedly to Jane and Shelley.

“Go right on back and take a look. This is, of course, only a part-time home for me and nothing like my house and garden upstate.”

Jane was prepared to be disappointed after this warning. She hobbled down the side yard, which had a wooden fence with a few hanging pots of ivy and begonias. It was cool and dark and restful. Instead of a sidewalk, there was a wooden walkway with ferns here and there along the sides.

Nothing was spectacular, but the begonias were in full bloom and the ivy and ferns were spectacularly well kept. Not a spot or hint of yellowing on a single leaf. Entering the backyard behind Shelley and Miss Winstead, Jane was surprised. There were several large pines at the back of the lot where the yard sloped upward that were quite large and almost entirely concealed the house behind. In front of the pines were small islands of color and scattered, delicate-looking small plum trees. And there were quite a few Asian-looking ornaments.