14 December 2006

For my Mum.

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Sunflower Maze

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Tall, strong flowers towered over the people, touching the sky, reaching for the sun. Large, dark middles with spiraling seeds surrounded by yellow petals. Snip. Down it comes, pretty and heavy, carried in both arms by a young girl to her parents to show it off.

Two years later, tending the flowers, planting more and more. Only eight or so, but wonderful with plants, coaxing forth stubborn shoots and praising them. Showering seeds with sparkling water. Bringing over the red lady bugs, carefully balancing slugs and snails on large, green leaves.

Twelve years of age, curing the water with crystals, placing a low, stone bench against trembling vines. So happy, so serious she seems stroking the petals and murmuring to the looming plants. Singing sweet songs in another language, doing her parents proud. Piles her hair, as yellow as the sunflowers, under her straw hat. Lathers on green tea, grown and made herself, and runs through the rows of flowers beneath the hot sun.

Too busy with flowers to pay attention in school or pay attention to boys. Two years older, fourteen -still lucky, seven plus seven, maybe twice as lucky- gently prods her beautiful flowers into winding paths, dead-ends, till there is only one exit. It was her maze, it was The Maze.

The Maze was tall and lush and daunting. Sunflowers grew close together, swaying as one with gentle breezes. They were surrounded with African violets, deep purple. A hibiscus bush planted tastefully every now and then, ringed with blue bells. The smells mingled, contorting and twisting together the sweet smells. The ultimate garden, perfect and balanced.

This was her creation, her pride. She ran through The Maze bare-footed, pounding silently at freshly planted green grass growing tall. She spent hours navigating it, marking check points discreetly, following the sun. She had sweat off the green tea, her skin singed pink. She was almost at the end, there was only one more hibiscus bush and she had run by it.

The end of the tunnel , The Maze, of sunflowers. Collapsing under the oak tree at the end, lying on her back, and closing her eyes. So exhausted, but so happy. Her beautiful garden was complete, harmonious and perfect. Her lips curved in a knowing smile, a Mona Lisa smile, smug that only she knew how to make her huge, lush garden grow tall and strong with her bare hands and pure materials.

Tall grass engulfed her as she slept, dreaming of forests from long ago, where, if she were there, would have ruled and brought them to their full glory. The Maze was just the beginning, but seemed to be the end of it in this world and the next.

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Something happy to cheer you up on these cold winter days.