Tendril Curl

The Whispering Tree

‘Treeeee-eeee. Ccome out here Tree,’ a whisper beckoned to Tarney.

The young boy cascaded into his winter boots, somehow managing to avoid knocking himself over or scrapping himself on one of the many obstacles, even while coming in from several angles all at once!

He scooped and then gently tugged the soft leather over his feet. Nose pointed in the air he inhaled long and deep, taking in the layers of freshly mingled earth and sky – mud, grasses, creature, the winds and seeds. It’s as if he was inside each one.

His eyes reached around in his head and then slightly rolled upward as he scampered across the back yard. He ducked past the first paddock gate, through the small hole. He could because he was still so small. He had come into the world early.

He spoke every day to his passed-on father, ‘May I be big like you Daddy?’

This world was so big, and he felt so small inside of it. Sometimes that felt pretty scary. His father would always say the same thing, ‘Yes indeed you will be very big– bigger than most,’

They had never met in ‘waking’ life but that was okay, they were good buddies now.

Mamma

He found himself, glassy-eyed looking up at the big Mamma tree with the giant protruding roots and many-ridged trunk.

‘What have we here, Mamma?’ Tarney queried.

There was no voice this time, but he found himself looking down and gazing towards the spot next to his right boot.

As he bent down his eyes made their readjustments, and it became clear what he had been summons here to for.

The Smallest Gift

He mucked the Earth up around it and gathered the small offering into his cupped hand. It was a bright green tendril. It curled intricately from it’s former womb of the seed.

Despite the frosty morning and the squelching puddles, Tarney knew a spot he could lay where the sun would be hitting, and the Earth would be warm enough to rest a little before he had to get ready for school.

He walked on gathered clots of Earth – his ‘Moonboots,’ enjoying the spongy feeling beneath his feet, stepping lightly.

His spot was there waiting, and it sang to him, ‘lay down here.’ He did so dutifully – happily.

He placed the small tendrilled spiral of life onto his chest and stretched back to soak in the early morning rays. He dozed.

When it was time, he gathered himself together, and before springing up, he recalled the gift.

Sun-dried

The wet dirt around the tiny, sprouted seedling was now dry. Tarney dusted it off, inspecting it for several minutes, then leapt up.

He was careful not clamp down on it too tightly as he rollicked his way back to the house. It remained gently cupped and buffered by the currents of air that came in from the openings of his fingers.

As he bounded over the steps, he lifted his arms and angled them, and the seedling drifted out of his cupped hands in a puff of wind.

He shucked off his boots with his feet and then peaked inside his hands – it wasn’t there! His mouth turned down.

He could feel it still. He felt momentarily torn, mum would be waiting - he didn’t have time, he had to get ready for school.

Sweet Morning Memories

“Ahhhhh.” What a grand morning it had been. Once inside, he gracefully arranged his limbs to gather all that was needed for the day. He danced under the shower, remembering the magic of the misty bog, the delicious warmth of the sun and laying on the cool Earth.

‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘that was a nice gift. Maybe it’ll take root somewhere anyways. Thanks for sharing it Mamma.’ He closed his eyes and tilted his head back under the faucet.

“Ti-iii-me! Tree-eeee”

Classroom Daze

He angled back in his chair and pulsed with it gently, finding the scent of the recently cut and rained upon grass. It wafted from a small crack in the glass that fanned out from the spot where the window was clasped in the centre panel.

He wished they’d open them wide, but he could smell it anyway – the Earth and the sky, and he was grateful for that.

When called upon later to read from the board, he was challenged to bring himself back in from the bird’s lilting conversations. The board was awash in glaze of soft white light, as was the teacher. He apologised for not being able to see.

“Where are your glasses?”

“I told you, I don’t need them. I can see just fine, but I need a moment to come back into the room.”

The teacher always responded the same, as though she couldn’t remember from the last time!

He closed his eyes and focused back into the room, bringing the chair legs firmly to the floor.

Spring

As Winter was turning into Spring, Tarney braved the morning frost, bounding past his boots, still askew and caked in Earth.

On the fifth day of Spring, after his morning sojourn, he came back upon the porch and following an urge to grasp the edge and stretch out, his eye caught hold of the sprouted seed - the one Mamma had whispered for him to come and find.

It was embedded in a clot of dirt beneath his right boot glistening with dew! It felt magical, but he was not at all surprised.

The porch had provided cover from the frost, and it had grown well and was a beautiful glossy green.

As Tarney peered closer, he saw that it had taken root! He felt giddy, and a wave of excitement swished through his heart. The BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! spread its way through his body, until it swelled up in his toes making them tingle. Oh what joy!

Excavation

While he had been busy in the General Store with his mum of the last five mornings before school, the little tendril, so freshly cracked, had been busy growing! She had grown sideways towards the sun, and then up, creating a delicate arch.

Tarney pushed himself away from the porch and skipped over to a slender White gum, scanning the base for ‘just the right stick.’ Once found, he disappeared inside to fetch the egg-flipper, then careful picked up the boot.

He made his way down from the porch and found a patch of ground with clover that was dry, ready to excavate his find.

Legs splayed open, leaning over the boot, Tarney traced in the dirt around her, using the stick. He had to do this carefully; artfully, to get the right amount of dirt for the egg carton cup he would place her in.

Potted

He etched down, down, to the sole of the boot, and scraped underneath, using the egg-flipper for the last bit.

He broke away the spare dirt from around the base of the etching ending up with a semi-cylindrical mass.

The freshly ‘potted’ seedling was placed in prime position in his room, underneath the window by his desk where it would get all the light that it needed.

Store Intervention

The teacher had been concerned about him and told mum that he was daydreaming in class. Mum had taken Tarney with her after that. He’d been in the General Store in the mornings and after school all week since then.

Mrs Keenan had given him several very tall stacks of various-sized pots on Tuesday, plus a load of cuttings and two mother plants and some packets of seed. He used the worm juice from their garden, manure and mulch to feed and pot the cuttings and seeds. He placed smooth rocks and crystals around the ones which asked for a little extra protection. He got to do his ‘work,’ when he was all done with his school tasks. It seemed like a good deal to Tarney.

Growing Pains

Tarney didn’t see much of home for that whole week. With early mornings and late evenings, removed from his usual routine of being beckoned by the Kookaburras and roosters, he had been dragging himself out of bed and leaving without much a thought about anything. After the Store, he plonked into bed.

The seedling from the Mamma Tree, with direct sunlight hitting it, searing its fine new growth, became more and more dried up each day.

On Saturday when Tarney got up after a sleep-in, he found it, scorched brown, laying limp next to the egg cup - almost dead.

There was a small pulse of green light which sang through the ache in Tarney’s heart, that told him there was still a little bit of life left in her yet.

Recovery

He soaked her roots that day and pruned the withered growth.

Once he had potted her again, he fed her whatever nutrients came to mind, and used a spray bottle when needed to keep her hydrated.

He had moved her from her ‘prime’ position, into a nestled corner out of direct sunlight.

Of early mornings he would be awakened and, in a trance, lift her out and take her to rest on the porch for first of the sun’s rays, before placing her away and getting ready for the day.

Slowly she recovered, and then, all at once when she had regained her strength, she sprang up robustly.

Love

Tarney would learn and grow with all the plants of the Earth, in the garden and at the General Store.

Most of his deepest lessons and conversation were with the plants and stones and other elements.

He had cooed to the dear little seedling, and called her Tendril Curl, beckoning her back to life.

He learned the most from her. He loved her and she lived.

Tree Dreaming

When she became a small tree, Tarney planted her in the yard.

She thrived outside and grew tall over the next few seasons, rooting deeply into the rich soil. ‘One day,’ Tarney thought, ‘I will take you to the granite mountain.’

Growth

Over the years Tarney grew in love, and adventures, enjoyed time with friends and had his first kiss beneath the small limbs of his Tendril Curl.

He loved his solo missions beyond the property, to the Granite Mountain, where he talked to Dad for hours, right at the top, overlooking the whole valley.

Nursery

The nursery section at the General Store became his organically, without any official titles or processes.

From a small section it grew.

Small pots of native trees and vegetable varieties flanked the doors. It spilled through the shop.

It climbed and sat prettily throughout the outside sitting areas. It threaded and weaved up over trestles, iron walls and stands, and cascaded into the front, to welcome patrons with hanging baskets of herbs and flower clusters.

When Tarney was there, he always evoked resources which enabled him expand the Nursery further; to make more elaborate displays!

Big!

Autumn of Tarney's fourteenth year, he had a fall.

Some kids at school had been talking to his back while he had been wandering along.

He hadn’t noticed. Caught up in the caresses of the swirling wind, he had been listening to the moody call of the birds. One of the boys tripped him!

When he got home, he saw Tendril Curl laying on the ground, uprooted by the wind.

With his scrapped hands, he lumbered with her to the base of The Granite Mountain.

Perched upon tossed earth, inside a hessian bag, judiciously he navigated the trolley around rocks and fallen trees until he was at the peak.

There, he dug a hole deep and wide, and planted his companion. He patted the earth around her as the sun sunk below the valley and remembered his father's words, ‘You’ll be bigger than most.’