Incalculable are the leaves preparing to emerge in August in Australia. A census could not calculate their profusion, mere statistics would crash the whole system. We are not talking simple millions. As they emerge the sun engenders their growth and we are blessed who may read the print version at leisure, no retrieving or tapping. The Japanese have the noun komorebi, “the sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees”, descriptive of the sun’s interplay through trees, but maybe also cognate with the longer Germano-Grecian word, photosynthesis. Komorebi: a colour word, sunlight seen through green foliage, creator and created.
Tuesday, 30 August 2016
The top of the city is feuillemort today. The feuillemort health centre, feuillemort cinema, and the Hill of Content. The trees are alive with feuillemort branches and seedpods. Feuillemort, a French adjective “having the colour of a faded, dying leaf”, apposite for Anzac House and the gay Paris End of Collins Street. St. Patrick’s spires are feuillemort all year round, poking up for all to see above the matching feuillemort Parliament House. August is about as feuillemort as it gets in Melbourne, as people on trams talk into their wires about resorting to paper now the Census site is dodgy.
Sunday, 28 August 2016
In August the lightest green comes out on pruned branches of the plum tree. Soft green so soft it’s almost white. Is there a word? Sorbet. Celery. Lime. Soon white blossom bursts on wood, supernovas in our astronomy, microdot starbursts, how every form has a purpose. Tiny frills of parsley are transplanted into mud, little chard shoots of crimson and green are popped in divots for rain, rhubarb leaves thin as a cuticle go into the soil for spring. Chamomile fragments spry and jagged are ready, once ground is prepared. Gardening, our fingers get little red cuts, black under nails.