Thoughts of foliage

Photinia lived above Windham Street on the wrong side of the crack. Whatever that meant?

Time had moved on and had left the decor and the footings of 1977 for all to mock.

A tattered orange plaid blanket was pegged in number 35's window.

I think there must have been bets on the ugliest blind in the street.

The sash went to our abode, unfortunately.

Although three doors down was a fierce competitor, nodding her tip as in to add weight to what she was saying. Once, where there had been a fixed Roman blind, only a twisted steel bracket precariously hung and a torn triangular sheet in the shape of a G-string; as though it was surrendering. Far from the colour of peace, it was a stained leaden-ash hue with skid marks left behind from those bloody minor birds.

The northerly wind wildly waved the G-string, and howled, "Oh, heavenly Father, deliver us from this shit hole."

Photinia wilted just a little bit more.

At dawn, the Isa Browns, with their pot bellies and sickly appearance, moved in a lethargic bob. They were crestfallen like the rest of us.

The only contented residents of Windham were the vermin who were now in a deep gluttonous slumber. I wanted desperately to branch out to the other side of the crack, where the lushest grandest yard was, to the east. One of the original allotments.

The homestead and the vast garden sat juxtaposed to the rest of Windham. The double block was accentuated with a dense, gold and green hedge. A handsome cedar crowns and branches above her.

Photinia often daydreamed of being over there instead of here. The verdant grounds of Windham were truly the pièce de resistance. It occupied a myriad of citrus trees and even one of those cosmopolitan crab apples. The zoysia lawn was soft and luxurious, almost tropical. I knew about this because my cousin's, boyfriends, sister who, mind you, is a self-proclaimed 'flam -bee- yont', on her hinge account, anyway. “Whatever that means?”

Poinciana - that's her name. She'd made the comment that the lawns, where she lived, were lusher, more tropical than here in Victoria. I always wanted to go to Qld. So, I could ride the green lantern and see the ‘Bat mobile’ for myself but my Dad didn't believe in such ' leafy frivolity'.

That afternoon as I dropped my tip over the dilapidated brown brick government houses, my mother blew past me, howling " Nooo, noooo, noooo!"

I didn’t know it at the time but Dad told me her sister, my Auntie was very sick. Dad had just received a phone call. He told me Mum was extra sad because she had not spoken to her sister for a very long time. He said she felt guilty. “Whatever that means?” When I asked Dad what it meant, he said he didn't really know either....

Even though my mum was sad I was secretly happy because Dad said we would be flying to New Zealand. We were finally going to go on a holiday! I have been O.S before mind you. Once I when I was 3. I went to visit my Jiji with my family in Japan. Soooooo cosmopolitan Darlink! My cousin uses that word a lot.

Two days later we landed in Christchurch and, needless to say at customs.......well, it was problematic. Biosecurity were not impressed. Although there was a nice woman with eyes, the colour of delphinium. She gave me a can of sprite and told me not to worry. She said, "Your mum and dad will be back soon”. She took my little leafy hand and placed some sort of device on the table and asked me what I would like to watch? Naturally out of my stem I blew "Costa!....please". He was my gardening Guru. I had watched gardening Australia through my neighbour's eves, eeeevery Friday night.

After an entire season of my Costa, I was getting ready to ask for another can of lemonade when I saw her. She was fearless and funny. She wore red. Her name was Owlette. I wished I was more like that. I forgot to ask for the can even.

The lady at customs was right because, after six episodes of ‘PJ mask’ and an entire season of ‘Costa’, some invasive swabbing and an elusive rat test, we were free to blow.

It was a four-hour journey to Blenheim, where Aunt Kathleen lived. Mum told me how she had always wanted to tick off some things on a bucket she really wanted to lick. “Whatever that means?”

We were gifted a silky Owlette mask and a bristled wand. I found them on my chair, on the plane. Mum and Dad had said I could have theirs, as well! On the way, I was Owlette; I chose to ignore the colour and wondered what was my superpower?

However, the day before we arrived, my Auntie had died of ento-mos-porium. “Whatever that is...”

I was nearly as sad as mum. I couldn't sleep.

Mum cried a river. I heard strange noises over her sniffles and snorts and Dad had a different kind of symphony going on. I was scared and sad. Then from down below, there was a rasping, a chatter. Not coming from Mum and Dad. And again....

With trepidation, she folded her leafy stem up and there out of the window, in the dark of night, only lit up by a floodlight from the shed, was her answer. A large, white, whimsical bird perched weightlessly on the wire. She had the most beautiful, symmetrical, heart-shaped face that I had ever seen. The owl's wings clapped and their eyes latched. Photinia felt peace, beauty, hope, awe, awareness, empathy and magic. She felt her powers and was connected to everything. She was the lush lawn, the batmobile, the surge of the green lantern, her flambeeyont cousin, the flash house, the grand gardens and she could slowly mend her mum with her love. It was all inside of her. It had always been.

And, just like that, the being with the alabaster wings and masked face took a silent flight.

It was the most influential event in her life.

She smiled off to slumber that night and gently let the cool South Island air carry her thoughts away.

The following day she rose with her heart full.

She made her mum breakfast in her petiole. A mishmash of potassium puffs and fried eggs, sunny side up, of course. Her Mum- Robin, was grateful and even managed to smile especially when Photinia told her they could still do one of the things she wanted before, she licked her bucket.

Even though her mum was sad, Photinia held her up with her love and when she returned to Windham she no longer drooped and secretly wished that a leaf blower would come along and end her sorrow.

Photinia reflected,"Instead... I became the shining red beacon of Windham, and just like the Queen's army, I watched over my street with cautious pride. I saw its nuances and charm - and fell in love with the animals, the birds and aaaalll the characters.

I see the beauty now in the vast slope and even in the retro vintage styles which, mind you, are back in fashion.

Oh, and there's more... as I grew and the seasons turned, would you believe that massive trunk of Cedar from the good side of the crack, who crowned above me, left a note in my cavity, asking if I would be interested in growing with him? It was a rhetorical question I imagine. “DAH!” His name, by the way, is Antonio. It turns out he's Spanish, not Greek - like my Costa- but that's okay...

I guess...

sort of...