Page 106 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘What’s going on there?’ Cynthia murmurs.
‘Sore hips. I’ve been walking a bit for exercise and maybe I pounded the pavement a bit too hard.’
Cynthia nods. ‘How’s the Parks Association going? You haven’t given us an update for a while.’
Kathy smiles as she thinks of the motley crew of regulars at the association meetings: young, old, from money, no money, all sorts of professional backgrounds, people who’ve lived here for decades, and some recent blow-ins like her. If she thought the Sunshine Gardening Society was a good introduction to her new home, the association has opened her world further.
‘They like to disagree about biscuit choices,’ she says, chuckling as she remembers the most recent stoush.
‘No one likes squashed-fly biscuits?’
‘Ido. But I think I’m the only one. Peter, one of the older blokes, said he prefers a Spicy Fruit Roll but we didn’t have anyso …’ Kathy raises her arms in surrender. ‘There was a lot of disappointment.’
‘Any group over the size of three, I believe, will result in that kind of thing,’ Cynthia says with a laugh. ‘But you feel like it’s worth going?’
‘Absolutely. I’ve found out a lot about the area and about how close they’ve come sometimes to losing the land to development. And don’t tell Shirl but …’ She looks over her shoulder to where Shirl is in a heated discussion with Barb. ‘I appreciate her point of view more now.’
Cynthia grins. ‘Scandal!’
‘I know, I know. I can’t tell her because she’ll do a victory dance or something.’ Kathy peers at a leaf. ‘Is this anything?’
Cynthia bends closer. ‘It was something. I’d say the pest has done its damage and moved on.’
‘So …’
‘You can pull it off. No point leaving it there using energy the plant could put somewhere else.’
Kathy looks at her sideways. ‘Is that how it works?’
‘If leaves are dying it’s best to get rid of them – they’re going to die anyway and the plant doesn’t need to try to keep them alive.’
There’s probably a metaphor for life in there somewhere; maybe Kathy’s already applied it by ending her marriage. Not that she would ever have thought of Owen as a dying leaf, and she didn’t get rid of him so much as rid herself of the situation.
‘Does that sound cruel?’ Cynthia says after Kathy has been silent for a while.
‘What? No. I was just thinking about pruning things. Pruning life.’
Cynthia strips off a few leaves. ‘It can be tough but necessary. It means you can grow something better. Or is that being too grandiose?’
‘I’d say it’s appropriately grandiose,’ Kathy replies with a laugh. Then she stops to think about its practical application:about the things she’s grown in place of the leaves – branches, if she’s being honest – she’s pruned.
‘On Christmas Day,’ she starts.
‘Mm?’
‘Your mother’s sketchbook.’
‘Yes.’ Cynthia pulls off some more leaves.
‘It got me thinking.’
Cynthia is silent, which is fine, because Kathy really should just get on with her story.
‘About my painting,’ she continues. ‘So I got talking to Emma at the Parks Association. She’s a painter.’
More silence, but some nodding this time along with a smile.
‘She teaches painting – she has a little class at home. Monday nights, which I have off. So …’
