Christmas is just a around the corner and here it appears just at the beginning of summer. It has sneaked up on me without warning. I have not bought any presents for the children and we don't have a Christmas tree either. I am so occupied with all what is happening now and it doesn't feel like Christmas anyway. The children don't say anything about presents and a Christmas tree. They seem not to miss it either or am I kidding myself and they are just not telling me. I do feel guilty for not providing the customary Christmas treats this year. In the shops are kind of strange Christmas decorations with colourful balloons hanging from artificial greenery. Everywhere Christmas tunes are played.
The sad thing is it does not feel like Christmas at all. I think I am homesick and I feel sorry for myself, which is the worst because it won’t help me feel better. Perhaps I feel like this because we have not yet a proper home. I have to shake myself out of this situation, I feel so lost in all this newness.
“Our "next-door" neighbours Norman and Norma and their four children have come by and invited us for Christmas lunch.
We drive to their homestead which stands on the highest point of their property. One of the children has to get out and open and close a few gates before we arrive on top of the hill.
Norma and Norman are a very nice family. Very straight forward and no frills. They and their ancestors have always lived and worked in this region. They have lots of relatives and know practically everybody around. They have two girls and two boys. The boys, are about the same age as our girls. The girls a few years older. They live in a old, cosy "Queenslander" what the traditional houses are called here. I am impressed by a big Figtree loaded with fruits just at the entrance of the house. My mouth waters just by looking at this tree. Norma said help yourself, yes thank you very much I will.
Norma and her two girls, 17 and 15 have prepared and cooked a beautiful Christmas lunch. The kitchen is very nice, decorated with many small porcelain figurines. The table was already set with her best china. We ate roast and grilled chicken and vegetables, lots of cups of tea to wash it all down. Dessert was an elaborate concoction called a "trifle" which is a bit a misnomer for this dessert. It was served individually in neat, small porcelain bowls. On the bottom a layer of cake saturated with brandy, colourful green and red, Christmas colours, Jelly cubes and to top it up a silky vanilla custard with some candied fruits. It was in a way what I knew as creme diplomat. Norma had also made Christmas treats like Coconut Ice in different colours which is a popular sweet. The rumballs also very scrumptious did not find approval with Jacky. I saw her taking it out of her mouth and throwing it out of the window behind her. Back home I reprimanded her for behaving not properly. Jacky cheerfully replied, it was Mrs. Connors idea, she said if you don't like it throw it out to the dogs. There were a few cattle dogs congregating before the kitchen to wait for the odd morsel. In the late afternoon, after sitting together comfortably and chatting, trying on both parts to make sense of what we were saying, we said goodbye and thanked them for their hospitality.
Summer has settled on us....the sun an awesome white-hot sphere simmers everything in its reach spreading an opalescent haze. Already the morning heats up with astonishing speed. By midday the heat puddles like lava over everything. Birds and animals are hiding in the deepest shady spots, bodies relaxed and silent.
Summer brings orchestras of cicadas lashing their music to every tree. With a mighty force they sing relentless day and night. The bush reverberates within their sound, tempo, forte always crescendo.
Summer brings hordes of insects. Ants and more ants, tiny ones, jumping ones, black and green iridescent, and more, all are armed with vicious little pincers ready to attack at the least disturbance. Some bunch and glue together leaves on tree and shrub branches. Unexpectedly I come into contact with their nest and disturb them the slightest bit they will drop on me attack like furies and bite me wherever they can.
The jumping ants are about one centimetre long they live under leave litter and are quite happy living there as long as I don’t come into contact with their pursuits. They are very quick jumping and burying their pincers into my skin, this protective action, leaves me to nurse a painful bite for quite a while. I am rather an expert by now I have experienced their defences often enough when innocently coming into contact with their dwelling and it is always I who runs.
The tiny red and black ones invaded my dwelling and I declared war on them that was not at all in perspective with these tiny marauders. But, as the saying goes “all is fair in love and war.” They made my kitchen their own; they glean any morsel they can carry, sometimes double their size pushing and shoving they march in single file into their one hundred and one hiding places. I tried my heaviest ammunition they are always back.
The tiny red and black ones invaded my dwelling and I declared war on them that was not at all in perspective with these tiny marauders. But, as the saying goes “all is fair in love and war.” They made my kitchen their own; they glean any morsel they can carry, sometimes double their size pushing and shoving they march in single file into their one hundred and one hiding places. I tried my heaviest ammunition they are always back.
I saw them busily like a red train, nothing stands in their way, and they overcome any hurdle, with tiny feet hurry along my kitchen bench. I followed their train; it went into a bookcase their nest hidden in our music. They chose Mendelssohn’s a Midsummer Nights Dream. Naturally in my war mood they got short thrift and their dream home destroyed.
Copyright T.S.
Copyright T.S.
