You can’t get past the Poinciana tree for magnificence of size and the colour. The Australian suburbs of Brisbane are full of them, which is just as well, because the uniformity otherwise of its streetscape and housing architecture is similar to many other cities and towns in Australia. Make no mistake though. The Poinciana is owned by Brisbane in glorious sun-kissed Queensland.
There is almost a sense of irresponsibility about it, a giving of wanton carelessness in being so ostentatious in it’s presence. It seems to say that nothing else really matters if trees of such outstanding and majestic grandeur are growing right in front of the gate. I mean, does it then really still count if you are driving a Porsche, or own a Bose sound system, and run a mining conglomerate?
And yet, despite the beauty or because of it, the streets are empty. Not a soul around. It is always like that. The sun parches anything daring to go outside. Even so, one would wish to see someone out there, even if just to clap in unison with those flowering trees. Give them a small ovation. Surely, they deserve some acknowledgment or do they flower just for themselves? Nature is so unselfish.
The trees are daring for people to come outside and do some close-knitting. Remember whenever someone is found in far-flung suburbs to have been murdered there is almost an automatic response of incredulity of how something as diabolical as a murder could have happened in their ‘close-knitted’ suburbs. Surely not here, not in my street! We are close knitted community!
Seeing those empty streets one does wonder when that close knitting takes place. Is it during the still of the night under a full moon when the elves take over or witches brooms fly over zinc-alumed roofs? Perhaps it is done over the back fence. We know that back fences often played mystical roles in Australian bush folklore. The remote controlled garage door has a lot to answer for too. In the past, at least the driver would get out of the car giving the neighbour a chance to quickly hop out to see him and perhaps exchange a few kind words.
Now that little pleasure is also been denied. There are just too many gadgets with buttons. It is impeding on the art of close-knitting.
I am sure of it!