I liked the shadow of flowering trees at Cashmere Hill. And draping myself in that shade merging into the night. Watching the night lights of Christchurch from there. I had taken a bus to Centauraus Road one late evening for a dinner with a couple who were family friends, and had missed the stop. I watched the sign pass by and realised I had missed the stop. I also realised that the bus was starting to climb up Cashmere Hill, out of the city limits. There was nothing I could do but wait for the next stop. I got off in the silence. Below me, Christchurch gleamed like arrayed golden pearls laid on a bed of darkness. It's orange glow permeating the lower skies until it slowly faded off to starlit night sky upward. I walked back down the hill. Somehow I was glad that I missed the stop. The night was gorgeous.
And that was when I chanced upon the shadows on the path cast from the flowering trees overhanging the road. I stood there for a while. Wanted to stay on there, but realised the couple were expecting me for dinner already.
Two weeks ago, I was returning home one night, and this time, as it happened earlier, I walked into the shadow of a flowering tree. This time the tree bore white wild rose. I stopped on my tracks. Watched the elegant folds and layers of the rose. So beautiful, beyond what people try to remake. Watched the dark leaves and the shadows that they hid in.
I jumped and caught hold of a few bunches. They felt firm and strong. I smelt them. Faintly rose like. Something deep. Like being lost in a memory of a beautiful person.
I took them home and put them in a Coke can that I had brought home in a mind to recycle them somehow.
After that I have gotten into the habit of collecting bottles from drinks I have had. Organic cola's, bitter lemonade and so on. Another day I gathered together a bunch of rhododendrons and arranged a bunch of white roses and rhododendrons. They dry quickly. But I guess that's why I like it. The brevity of beautiful things.
Two days ago, I saw more daffodils had sprung up around Barbadoes Cemetry. And looking around if anyone was watching, picked a few and brought them home. I saw an empty bottle of whiskey in the sitting room (Raj's, not mine) with a few drops of whiskey still at the bottom. I put two stalks of the daffodils in. It is still blooming strong after two days.
Nothing like a few drops of whiskey to keep daffodils going strong.
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So yeah, Spring is here. And Christchurch is as beautiful as ever. The skies. The sunlight. The people.