Monday, 3 March 2008

tendrils & blooms

In the early evening I step outside with my cup of tea. I stand and watch tiny New Holland honey-eaters chase each other around the yellow blossoms of a gum tree. I am thrilled by the spinning of a slim curved leaf as it slowly spirals to the ground, passing through shadows and light on its way.

I look over the fence to the giant soft greenness of the neighbour's Jacaranda tree. Beside it is a tall, fat pine. The one my dad said is like a Norfolk Pine but not; but smaller. It's arms stretch out with great multi-fingered hands. Cupped in some are tall proud seed cones. They sit like fat happy eggs in a nest. I glance back to the Jacaranda. Although a younger tree down the road is still blooming this tree finished flowering weeks ago, before it grew its soft feathery leaves for another year. But then, just to one side, I spot one brilliant lilac bloom. Just one, sitting in the green and the light. And I'm amazed at how sometimes, all we need is just one.

The passionfruit vine in front of me stretches toward empty air, looking for something to cling to, to grow on, something for support. I can see it won't find it and will have to be content to return to the fence. Will realise, after searching enough emptiness, it must return to itself and keep growing from there. Although this won't stop it from stretching out further vines and searching tendrils in the future.

(cross posted @ bloom lane)