compost
Dear Ciara,
I have a lot to say today. My experiences have turned to compost and now the bin is overflowing. I’ll have to shovel some onto the garden, Ciara. Is that alright?
I awoke feeling frazzled. I had slept poorly due to a power outage cutting out my ceiling fan. If there is one thing about Tropical Queensland, it is that the nights can be sweltering. Without the fan spinning hypnotically overhead, I was restless for most of the night. And then, to make matters worse, I quickly realised I had no milk for my coffee! Now, I could’ve walked to the store and gotten some, but did I? No. I was feeling far too lazy. I’d rather complain about having no milk as opposed to doing anything about it.
After a few hours of grumpiness and procrastination, finally enough was enough. I decided to drag myself to the Botanic Gardens, as this always cheers my spirits and revives my creativity.
I strolled beneath a canopy of heliconia flowers, umbrella trees sporting red-bead seeds, and palms of all varieties. Bursting white lilies and shampoo ginger. Strange, broad leaf epiphytes with twisting white flowers dangling from beneath. Tassel ferns. White cinnamon orchids. I was drowning in the foliage.
A secret favourite of mine are love flowers. While they can be a bit of a weed up here, the Botanic Gardens have this dark-leafed variety that throw a delicate, purple flower. I have the white variety at home, but I am desperate to get my hands on the purple variety. I can see them catching the sunlight on my windowsill.
I thought about how trees wear epiphytes like accessories. What happens when the epiphyte dies? Is it like carrying a corpse as a handbag?
I did get a bit sad for a moment. Took a seat beneath a sea hibiscus to steady myself. A friend of mine, you know the one—let’s call her The Playwright—has recently moved to London. Like the flowers above me, our friendship blossomed at this very place, so it has a significant spot in my heart. But the wave of sadness didn’t last long. I am glad she has begun the next chapter of her life, and I have some things to tend to here before I move onto my next chapter.
Afterwards, I sat next to a small dam full of water lilies and read The Mountain. It has been a while since I have read some Kate Llewellyn, and I am eager to devour a few more of her diaries. Sitting by the water was heavenly; I enjoy when the breeze blows and stirs the surface of the water, like an invisible being is skating across it. There were ducks and orange-footed scrub fowls chasing each other in the distance.
I returned home revived. Made a homemade pita bread stuffed with Moroccan chicken for lunch. When I visit NSW next, will you take me to that garden near your apartment, the one with the kangaroo paw and the sprinklers?
The song for today is:
Spine Oil – Samia
I have had Bloodless on repeat these last few weeks. It was challenging to pick just a single song from the album for you, but I am going to go with Spine Oil. The lyrics are breathtaking, yet haunting. A good song to disassociate to under a canopy of tropical plants.
Love,
The Gardener