Me: I think my favourite camellia is dead, dead, dead! I’m devastated! I keep hoping it will come back to life but, even with all this rain, there are no flowers flowering!
Anthony: Yes and I hate to break this to you, Jules, but it is definitely dead.
Me: Are you sure?
Anthony: You really don’t have a clue about gardening do you. Now that I have a more objective view of things, I can see this quite clearly.
Me: But all of the other camellia trees are fine! It’s just that special one – my camellia, the one I bought from that lady, Bonnie, from The Vision Splendid Gardens in 1998 at an exorbitant price because it had to be dug out of the ground.
Anthony: The thing is, Jules, plants need water, especially in the summer, especially in Australia.
Me: Yes, I know that, Ants. I’m not a moron! Anyway, it’s winter now.
Anthony: Preceded by summer?
Me: Well, duhh.
Anthony: What you do is you get the hose, position it against the trunk of the tree, turn the tap on and hey presto. On very hot days, leave the hose on for longer.
Me: Patronising bastard.
Anthony: It’s not rocket science.
Me: What? Since when do you use expressions like that?
Anthony: Somebody I knew used to say that a lot.
Me: Yeah, but I don’t water anything anymore because when I turn the tap on, the pump pumps and it uses electricity and I’m trying to be conservative which, by the way, was something you, yourself, encouraged.
Anthony: There are always exceptions, Jules. I watered your camellia religiously every summer, while you were at work, before I went into the nursing home.
Me: So how come it survived without you watering it for six years.
Anthony: Ming did it.
Me: Oh! Actually, you’re right – I remember him doing it. It was during one of his following-in-your-footsteps phases.
Anthony: Don’t be sad about it, Jules.
Me: But I am, Ants. I loved that camellia so much – its incredible, ballerina-like flower, the story about how we convinced Bonnie to sell it to us and the way her workmen secretly gave us three trees because they thought Bonnie had ripped me off.
Anthony: It’s not dead, Jules.
Me: And I used to bring you the best of its flowers when you were in the nursing home and, after you died, I took them to your grave.
Anthony: Are you listening?
Me: Yes?
Anthony: I nicked it.
Me: What?
Anthony: The camellia died so Bonnie and I figured out how to get it here without you noticing, then we planted it, and now it’s flourishing.
Me: What?
Anthony: Your camellia is here, Jules.
Me: What?
Anthony: Stop saying “what?”
Me: I beg your pardon?
Anthony: That’s better.
Me: If you were here, I would punch you gently on the nose but oh, Ants, I am so relieved that it’s okay – the tree, I mean. Thank you so much. I am going to miss it but it’s good to know it’s in good hands. I’m sorry I don’t have green thumbs like you.
Anthony: My thumbs are now a heavenly shade of emerald and….
Me: Okay, I get the picture.
Anthony: Good.
jmgoyder 