The Celestial Sea

by Marina de Nadous

  “Shouldn’t we introduce a small charge for each child?” I ask Cordelia and Adrian at our next Workshop meeting. “Surely the families have had enough trial sessions by now?” We are agreed and put something in writing to that effect. We place a donation basket beside the seasonal table, hopeful that we can make our venture financially viable. Life may be wonderful in the Southern Hemisphere, but it sure is difficult to keep afloat.

  “Would you like my garden shid?” Adrian asks one day. “You could really do with one. “Your garden shid?” I tease. “I presume you refer to a shed, my Friend?” Adrian is amused and laughs. How kind of him. He duly arrives the following week with a trailer full of metal sheets. I help him unload. “Here, Sir, let me take that with you.” We stack everything to the side of the drive. “This is a good place, eh?” My handsome Friend is on a role. “We might want the ‘shid’ in the bottom paddock and can carry it piece by piece from here. I see us spending a fair amount of time down there.” We are agreed, although The Laird is not too pleased by the added drive decoration. “Please ask me before you bring anything else up here, and tell Adrian I need to be part of any landscaping projects will you?”

  Adrian lives a fair distance from the school, having moved into a couple of old buses near Delphine when they were a couple. “I spent the whole summer creating a garden there; I’d like to show you some day. I even have a fire bath——fantastic at the end of a busy week. My veggie patch is coming along well but I’m beginning to find it lonely. I prefer living with others. Delphine lives over the hill and a shy woman called Sasha lives in a house-bus next to me. But the children on site are great; they love to help me garden, take my dog for a walk and work with the wood I collect. I have a growing pile of Manuka stored under the second bus. Tell you what, why don’t I come over at the weekend? There’s an area of Bush further up the road that looks interesting——I’d like to explore that. Then I could walk the land with The Laird to include him in all our plans——see what ideas he has.”

  The weekend sun is glorious and I am out of bed before the family stirs. I take The Bog Brush down the drive for her morning trot, excited about the day ahead. The drive offers the only quick amble on our steep Mountain. Any other excursion requires a certain mind-set and energetic action. I stop a while on the deck. The Kuwharu Hills are wrapped in mist this morning. I look towards them, knowing my new friend lives in the foothills of the impressive range. I expect he is up and about, gardening or lesson planning——something creative certainly. The family that owns the ninety-acre piece of land runs the organic food shop in town. All the children living there attend our school; it is quite a community.

  I often catch myself thinking about Adrian; he brings a thrilling new sparkle into my life. We are perfectly suited, stimulating each other on many levels. I sense a safety from stepping over any boundary, though——I think. He has his eye firmly set on the lovely Jules in Wellington, even though she hasn’t returned his calls, and I am a married woman——forbidden fruit. I decide there is nothing wrong in a housewife’s imaginative wanderings. I enjoy inventing dreamy escapades and secret rendezvous with this wonderful man. One I particularly enjoy is a dawn saunter to the bottom paddock where I picture Adrian walking to meet me under the pine trees.

  Today I am bold and imagine him taking me in his arms and kissing me. My breath stills——an opening miraculously appears——silence about us——the breeze in the towering pines subdued and spiders in gossamer webs watching. ‘And when their breath is as one a thousand stars burst in the sky.’

  Goodness me——take a deep breath——better get back to the washing-up, although the soapsuds can’t take away the magic I taste. Swimming before me is the realization that this is real. A large rainbow bubble takes a while to burst. To step over that sacred threshold——hmm——surely that is something I would never entertain. Or would I?

  “Adrian’s here!” Joyous shouts from the children disturb my reverie as his car rounds the steep bend in front of the cabins. I remove my apron and walk out to meet my Friend. I am quietly beaming. Adrian’s glorious smile greets me as he looks up towards the deck. He is busy pulling freshly harvested wood from the back of the car. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, revealing masculine forearms and a woodsman’s dash that ignites my daydream. He and the Go-Getter are storing the precious timber under the house. “Can I have two lengths for the sword I am making?” My wee fellow is eager. “Yes, of course;” Adrian is quick to agree. “Let’s work on it together. But first I need to say hello to your mother and have a cup of tea, eh?”

  Adrian bounds up the cabin steps, followed by his trusty collie dog. We greet each other so warmly. He is brown and tousled. I don’t think he brushes his hair very often and the remains of the Bush foraging are obvious. He is a man of the land; a classic Kiwi Pioneer. The woman in me delights in his presence. He is a handsome man, although perhaps not in the conventional sense. It is something in his bearing and his smile, his fine-boned features and sparkling personality that warm me so completely. “Here, let me remove those leaves Sir, and what about some breakfast?” “Oh, you have hit the right mark, My Lady. Yes please, I’m so hungry——no breakfast this morning. I’m not very good at eating regularly.” He tucks into egg and bacon with surprising zeal. He is too thin and I am glad to be caring for him this sunny, weekend morning.

  The Laird eventually arrives from rugby viewing in the top cabin and demands a similar breakfast. He greets Adrian cordially and the two men pull on their boots before walking the land to discuss landscaping possibilities. Watching them stroll off together I wonder if they will ever feel comfortable in each other’s company; they are so different. A sudden thought makes me giggle——they are like Gimli and Legolas from ‘Lord of the Rings’. One is short and well-built, bearded and earthed with immense staying power. The other is tall and slight, although a masculine, wiry strength is apparent through his graceful movements. Soft in colouring, clean-shaven and lightly set upon the earth I suspect Adrian is easily swayed. And yet, his spiritual integrity and authority are so strong.

  In many ways the two men have much in common. They are teachers for a start and share an interest in spirituality. In fact, both men have strong leanings towards the priesthood. Both are coloruful showmen, although The Laird is an extrovert, and I suspect ego driven, while my playful Woodsman has a surprising, introverted nature and is less sure of himself——so he tells me. As they walk up to the Pa Site behind the house I decide my new Friend has the bearing of an Elfish Prince. I raise my eyebrows in question, wondering what might be unfolding here. The Laird and The Prince? An interesting combination.

  We focus on Harvest Time during the following school weeks. I have introduced my kindergarten rhythm of a seasonal table with storytelling during Monday Assembly. The Festival Group has embraced the idea and Cordelia and I write the stories and set up the table before school begins. This week, Big J. tells the children a story we have adapted from one of my own kindergarten tales:

  HARVEST SUNGOLD

  Once upon a time in the land of Sungold, Mother Earth had a dream.

  The Wise Man on the hill told her to come to him for he had an important message to give her.

  Mother Earth hurried through the land until she found the Wise Man under a beautiful tree on the hill, amongst a field of sunflowers and ripened corn “At last, you have arrived”, the Wise Man smiled. “The time has come to gather in the harvest——the ripe fruit and nuts, seeds, grains and berries, as well as the plump vegetables growing in the fields and gardens. They have been soaking up the sun all through the long, summer days. The sun is beginning to fade, so go and gather, gather. Fill baskets and barrows, fill barns and houses for the harvest is good.”

  Mother Earth began her work, sending special messages to all the Farmers and Gardeners across the land. And they listened.

  Farmer Jake listened on his farm in the far corner of the world——“I must hurry”, he thought to himself. “Before the rains come. A
t last, my new barn is finished and I can fill it to the rafters.”

  The next morning Farmer Jake started work with his family and village workers. By the end of the week they had completed a fair amount of the harvest. The corn from the top field was the last to be brought home. They were in a hurry. The dry weather wouldn’t last much longer.

  How they all worked! Such long, hot hours collecting and carefully storing the precious grain. The golden colours and rich aroma wafted across the barnyard and an air of contentment settled over all. Even the farm animals sensed the satisfaction and relief that the work had been completed. And, as is the tradition on the last harvesting day, a grand feast was laid out in the barn for everyone to enjoy. The harvesters had worked so hard that Farmer Jake and his family wanted to thank them.

  As the villagers feasted, sang and danced the night away the Farmer’s thoughts returned to Mother Earth——Oh, but he must thank her for the abundant harvest. “I know”, he said out loud, “I shall make the long journey and visit The Wise Man on the Hill myself. I am so happy. I would like to tell him about my full barn.”

  Packing a good hamper with freshly made bread, creamy cheese, apples and pears from his orchards he set off. The morning mist turned the countryside into a magical world as he walked. Harvest Fairies and Gnomes flitted in and out of the hedgerows and he sang as he walked. It was a long, long way. The journey took him over many farms and through acres of woodland, until at last he neared the bottom of the hill. “Thank goodness, I am nearly there”, he said out loud. The sun was beginning to set and he was very tired.

  As he started the steep climb to the top of the hill he noticed an Old Lady with an empty basket at her feet. She was hungry and weary, and held out her hands to Farmer Jake as he passed——“Oh, please, good Sir, may I have one of your apples? I haven’t eaten in days”

  Now, Farmer Jake was in such a hurry to get to the top of the hill to see The Wise Man, that I am sorry to say he didn’t stop to give her any food. As he climbed the final path, there in front of him sat The Wise Man. The golden colours of the harvest, the sunflowers and the wheat surrounded him; making him glow with magnificence. Falling to his knees, the Farmer lifted his arms above his head and said; “oh, Wise Man, my harvest has been so splendid, so very splendid!

  The Wise Man looked at him quietly; a sad, wistful expression filled his eyes and he said; “I have just met you at the bottom of the hill but you did not share your harvest with me. Yes, I was the Old Lady who stopped you and asked for one of your apples. But, I was also the farm worker whose brow you soothed with a cool cloth in the heat of the sun and I was the hard-working young girl in the barn who packed all the fruit so carefully. You gave me a basket laden with food to take back to my sick mother and hungry family. For these kindnesses, I thank you.”

  He gave Farmer Jake the most beautiful smile and suddenly he understood what the Wise Man had been saying. “Why, the Wisdom is in each and every one of us! This is why the journey to the hill had been so important. Receiving this knowledge was the greatest gift of all.” Jumping up, he bowed a reverent goodbye to The Wise Man and ran off down the hill to find The Old Lady and share his food with her. She was still there. Taking her hands in his, he said; “please Madam, will you picnic with me this evening as the sun sets? I have a basket laden with food from my farm.”

  Sitting together happily under the large sunflowers they gave thanks and broke the bread. They spread it with the delicious cheese and homemade pickles and soothed their parched throats with cool grape juice. When they had finished they sat contentedly watching the arrival of the night sky’s twinkling stars. When it was time to say goodbye the Farmer was sure he glimpsed a wistful look in The Old Lady’s eyes and he smiled to himself, knowing that he hadn’t imagined it.

  The children are quiet when the story ends. It has been memorized; a skill every teacher in school perfects. The children sit cross-legged on the floor of Rinky’s classroom. The generous-sized room just holds the whole school of ninety pupils. The Kindergarten children don’t come to Assembly. Our Festival Group has taken one corner for the seasonal display and this week a wooden barn holds felted figures and little tables laden with harvest food. Coming from the Northern Hemisphere it feels most peculiar to celebrate Harvest Festival during Lent, but somehow we manage to marry the two by writing stories around The Farmer and his village workers.

  Reflecting the stories, the school’s Lenten impulse this year concentrates on ‘care’——care for fellow pupils and immediate surroundings. As the Farmer and his family mend the cart and oil the farm implements the children at school repair desks and boot lockers. As the farm workers gather in the harvest the children sweep paths and make gifts for the Kindergartens with the fallen seedpods and flax leaves they find. A thorough cleanse of self and environment, together with going out of our way for others, marks the school’s preparation for Easter. The final week will see the classes joining the wider community to give their time and skills to others. Adrian’s class is helping the local conservation group clear rubbish off the beaches. The Go-Getter’s class are giving a concert in a retirement village. Holy Week will be celebrated during the holidays and not spoken of directly at school. The teaching philosophy embraces the seasonal and church calendar, although it works with the underlying, mystical essence rather than any religious doctrine.

  Inspired by my Kindergarten idea, Class 1 was busy last week with homemade play-dough. They have made miniature pies and rolls, loaves and cakes for the seasonal table, all decorated most beautifully with seeds and petals from the gardens. Cordelia and I have adorned the surrounding area with sunflowers and vegetables, avocados and apples. The Kiwi Fruit isn’t harvested until May/June. But the Passion fruit are ripe, as are the popular Feijoas, which I haven’t met before. My family don’t like the Feijoa fruit——“they taste like perfumed loo cleaner, Ma!” I would have to agree; not that I have ever tasted loo cleaner. “I know what you mean!” I laughed. The strange fruit is better cooked, although I hope in time I’ll get used to the taste.

  * * * * * * *

  “I might take a break from the Workshops,” Adrian announces one day. “Do you mind? I’m getting tired and overloaded with school commitments.” Of course I agree, albeit with a large amount of disappointment and deflation. Although on a half timetable, and therefore half salary, Adrian ends up giving many extra hours to school each week. Between gardening, dragonhead making, music and supporting other teachers he is always busy. Also, our donation basket for the Workshops is meagre. “Perhaps you had better take the ‘shid’ panels away,” I suggest. “I can help you put them in the trailer.” We make our way down the drive, an awkward silence about us. “You can keep it by all means,” he offers. “You are kind,” I reply, “but I won’t be able to assemble it without you.”

  Adrian expertly secures the heavy metal sheets. Most people own a trailer and D.I .Y skills are the ‘norm’. “How are you really my friend? Tell me honestly how you are with my stepping down?” Adrian presses me. I reassure him that I am fine——that we will certainly miss him, but we’ll manage. “Really? Tell me how you are truly feeling.” I am thrown for a while——unused to being put on the spot. “Well——I am really okay,” I answer lightly. “I am an optimistic person. I am either on a high or on an even-keel. I never go down. Hmm——that’s it really. I am fine.” He looks at me quietly with a questioning look, then gives me a warm hug and drives away. He has left me his wooden sword, as well as a smaller one he made for me. I watch him leave, looking at the ugly outbreak of impetigo that covers my fingers. Both younger children have had recent boughts of the horrid infection. I wonder if The Angels are giving us a warning, ‘hands off’ message?

  How am I feeling——truly? I don’t spend much time on myself. I never try to uncover hidden emotion, a habit leftover from boarding school I suppose. I am upset——yes——but I shall get over it. Anyway, the term is almost finished. I turn the wooden swords over in my hands. They are love
ly. I particularly like Adrian’s——the long blade has a gentle curve and the jute-bound hilt sits comfortably in my hand.

  * * * * * * *

  At the end of term my Woodsman Friend announces his decision to run a one-off, Trolley Making Workshop during the holidays. I ask him what a Trolley is? “Oh, it’s an unpowered Go-Cart——you know, the type children make. Would you like to be involved”? I check out the idea with The Laird. “Yes, he would be keen for us all to participate in the two-day creativity. “We could run it at home on The Mountain,” I suggest. “I could provide a proper lunch, like we do for our Workshop days. We could advertise through the school newsletter.”

  How exciting. Adrian is surprisingly back on board and before the term is over, fourteen children are booked in for the Wednesday and Thursday after Easter.

  “I’m off to Auckland then,” Adrian waves from the school car park on the final day of term. “I’m spending Easter with my family. I’ll pick up the special wheels we need on my way. See you.”

  Easter day is quiet. We are so used to family gatherings at these celebratory times that anything other is a letdown. After church and a beef stew lunch we head out for a family walk, or ‘tramp’ as they say here in Kiwi-Land. Our single family unit is never positive——I don’t know why. Is it The Laird and his deflated mood when we are alone? Or Cedric the Scowler with his teenage grump? Or is it me? Our combined personalities create an uncomfortable cocktail and I have to admit to relief when the weekend is over.

  The Trolley Workshop preparation takes us into town early in the week. It is Tuesday and Adrian has agreed to come up to The Mountain tonight; to plan and prepare for the exciting project. I have the Go-Getter and Rinky the Minx in the car. As we turn into the supermarket forecourt we notice a familiar estate car parked further along. “Oh look——that’s Adrian’s car isn’t it? He’s back from Auckland already. He must be shopping too.” I can’t stop the children after that——they are away like a shot, determined to hunt down their friend amongst the cabbages and chocolate. I walk over to the blue car——yes——stuffed to the hilt with wood and tools; certainly Adrian’s vehicle.