My Favourite Tree

My favourite tree was in our front yard just to the side of our driveway. It was a Jacaranda. Jacarandas come from South America. My brother Jim and I nailed timber offcuts to its trunk for a ladder. We’d climb and swing from branches like monkeys. Jim loved to climb to the highest branches, however, just the first few were good enough for me. Jim had found some rope on a fishing trip, and he made a swing to play jungles. Rope was always a precious commodity due to its universal utility and scarcity.

One morning, Patrick, my father, called us to the tree.  

He whispered, “Look,” and on the first branch were two Boobook owls.  

“Quiet now,” Patrick uttered, “they’re nocturnal.” 

That means they sleep during the day. I’m never sure if this is always accurate. I have observed multiple ‘nocturnal’ animals quite actively knocking about during the daylight hours.

We had a Loquat tree near the chook pen. That was Jim’s favourite tree. He sat up there most weekends singing and munching on loquats. He built a platform from dried Calistemon branches. He didn’t have any rope, so he stole some wool from mum’s sewing kit. I wasn’t sure if it would hold, but it did.

When we walked our dog Tobias through the bush, we’d see the old Jarrah trees that were burnt by the bush fires. Some of them had dark charcoal caves at the bottom of the trunk.  

“Those are whisper trees,” Patrick said, “that’s where all the animals go to have their secret meetings and whisper.” Jim always appreciated this, and Patrick would wink at me not to spoil the fun.

We had Red Gums on our property. They bleed in high heat. That is where they got their name. The largest dripped a sticky puddle of crimson sap onto the trampoline below that we dodged like poison. The Red Gums dropped gum nuts and if you strategically place the knuckles of your thumb over the opening, you could get a decent whistle out of them. The cockatoos loved them. Swarms of them would nibble at them and drop them to the floor to such an amount, we created a game called ‘the gauntlet.’ We strapped our bike helmets on and ran beneath the tree’s crown and back, pivoting passed the plummeting projectiles.

My favourite tree was near to the Paperbark tree. Jim and I once carefully tore a sheet of bark from the trunk. We snuck into Mum and Patrick's study and took the best black inky pen. We drew an old treasure map that led to the Jacaranda on the bark, with ‘X’ marks the spot. I always loved maps, especially drawing them.

One day Patrick announced, ‘let’s go for an adventure, let’s go into the city for some ice cream.’ Patrick loved his adventures and the customary wink my way always followed. The city park had Moreton Bay Figs. They were colossal. The giant serpentine roots above the surface created hollows for hiding. They stank to high heaven, and Jim and I agreed they were the best kind of tree for climbing, but the home Jacaranda was still my favourite tree. In the hot months it would drop its purple flowers. We’d pick them up in a bucket and throw them up in the air like confetti when we played weddings with our older sisters Jane and Lizzie. Purple was my favourite colour. Red was Jim’s. When we were done with weddings, we collected the confetti once more, and scattered it across the trampoline, and on my count, bounced the purple flowers in a frenzy everywhere!

It was a Tuesday, coming home from school, and I heard the rumble of chainsaws and clinking motors as we pulled into the driveway. The tree had gone. The space in the sky was stark and bare and hit me in my chest. There were men with helmets and bright yellow shirts on their backs walking around the front yard, winding rope, and raking twigs and leaves. The tree was a stump. Patrick stood still in the driveway, with his hands pocketed.

“What happened” I cried.

Mum explained into the rearview mirror ‘the tree roots were lifting up our driveway’ and the branches were ‘pushing against the telephone-wire.’ Jim was speechless and looked puzzled.

“Why couldn't we get a new driveway?” I protested, “why couldn't we get a new telephone-wire?”

“That would cost too much money,” Mum spoke gravely.

“But that was my favourite tree!” I moaned. “I loved it!”

“I know dear. There wasn't anything we could do.”

I walked up to Patrick to confront him with Jim in tow. 

“Excuse me, what is the meaning of this! Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“I’m sorry sunshine.” Patrick was solemn. “It had to be done.”

“You didn’t think to at least run it by me first?” Patrick stood steadfast, holding his breath. They even poisoned the stump purple.

Time passed. It was a late Sunday morning, and we were back from mass. I was pacing anxiously, battling to contain my anger. ‘My tree!’ I gruffed. I circled the house searching for Patrick. I followed the sound of the cricket on his wireless. He was on the roof clearing the gullies.

“Patrick?”

“Yes Sunshine.”

“I’m real upset with you, and Mum.”

“I know mate.”

“But I need your help to make it right.”

“Oooh, what’s the plan ol’ China?”

I had written out the plan with the method and diagrams to complement the procedure on fresh matrix paper and presented it to Patrick.

A gentle smile came over his face. “This is very impressive. How long did this take?”

“It’s not important!” I snapped backed rather callously. “The question is ‘Can it be done?”

Patrick furrowed his brow, “Let’s get to it boss!”

Patrick made for the shed and clumsy bangs and clangs followed for a minute or two. Then, he appeared straight faced with an axe. He bellowed, “Lay on, Macduff!’

“And damned be him that first cries “Hold! Enough!” I replied.

Patrick took his axe and proceeded to weigh into the centre of the stump, and the centre alone. “Stand back Sunshine.”

Purple wood chips showered the air. He was sweating like a racehorse. Each chop echoed throughout the neighbourhood in three dying beats.

“That’ll about do it,” he puffed. “We’ll fill the hollow with soil and then sow the seeds of the Lilac vine. It’ll grow in no time,” he offered.

Patrick was a good man. Today the stump is still there, with the lilac vine bursting out from the hollow, all in chaotic directions. A vivid green with vibrant purple. I loved that tree. It’s still my favourite tree.