The Chilly Winds of Change

The old man stood surveying his extensive front yard, his pride and joy; a retirement lifetime of effort. He lent on his rake and breathed in the cool Autumn air. It refreshed his nostrils and acted as a warning sign to say colder mornings and winter are on its way.

“Dunno why yer wastin’ yer time rakin’ the leaves Mr Chelsea, those trees are fulla leaves so yer may as well wait until they all drop orf”, boomed a young voice.

“Morning Jack”, said the old man.” I don’t know why you go to school every day, Jack, when you could just turn up on the last day, read all the books and then sit the exam.”

“Sounds too much like hard work to me”, retorted Jack as he strode off through the park toward the schoolyard.

The old man looked around his garden. “Best get on with it”, he muttered, “there’s a lot to be done before winter sets in”.

Autumn wore on and the old man and the boy chattered to one another most mornings as their paths crossed.

Winter set in, the frost cast its blanket across the old man’s front yard as well as the park pathway young Jack took every morning on his way to school. He noticed that the old man was not in his garden as often, and he missed the opportunity to talk to the old man and generally stir him up and listen to his retorts.

The old man missed the banter also and would quite often peek out of his kitchen window to catch a glimpse of young Jack on his way to school. He’d be rugged up like a knight in armour with his beanie, coat and scarf protecting him from the elements. Head down as he forced his way through the cold southerly winds.

“I ‘aven’t seen you around all that much”, Jack shouted.

 The old man looked up and through his smile said, “Why, have you missed me?”

“Aey?”, was as good a reply as he was going to get, so the old man left it at that.

“Winter is a difficult time for us all”, the old man said. “We all suffer from the short days, the cold weather can isolate us from the world and make us feel alone. A lot of people, and especially gardeners can lose their way during the winter”.  I like to keep my eye on my garden and ensure all is going well, the garden needs to be cared for and to feel its cared for even in its most dormant times.”

Jack looked at the old man with one of those blank looks that only a young person can execute and get away with; “see yer later”, he muttered to ensure his disinterested exit was as polite as possible and headed toward the school yard.

As Jack was on his way to school one morning he noticed Mr Chelsea walking into his front yard ladened with pruning saws, clippers and secateurs. “Gonna chop a few trees about?” he enquired.

“More like a surgeon than a lumberjack” the old man replied, “Spring beckons, Jack, Spring beckons”.

“Wot do yer mean, it’s the middle of winter? came Jack’s puzzled reply.

“It is the middle of winter, and Spring is just around the corner, so we had better get ready for it,” said the old man.

“Like how?” said Jack.

“See those Azalea bushes over there, well I need to shape them for the coming spring so that all the new shoots will give me the shape that I want, and that I get the best flower coverage as possible. And that Nectarine tree, it needs to be pruned to promote new growth so that I get the fruit I want for summer. The new growth will come in the Spring and if I don’t plan and prune for it now it will be too late.”

“And you wont get all those great Nectarines,” Jack interjected.

“Well not only won’t there be enough fruit for you to steal and me to share, the tree won’t be as prepared or as strong to hold the fruit, so without due care we could do the tree more harm than good,” the old man explained.

“Fair dinkum!”, exclaimed Jack, “my Mum said you were a smart gardener, but my Dad reckons anyones' garden would look just as good as yours if you had nothin’ else to do all day”.

“I think both your Mum and Dad are right,” said the old man through a wry smile.

July came and went and the old man and the boy exchanged many an early morning story. Then one windy afternoon in August Jack came across the old man fertilising his garden.

“Jeez it’s windy.” exclaimed the boy.

The old man looked through tired eyes and replied, “Yes; these are the chilly winds of change which we all must endure. These are the winds which blow away the ills of winter and usher in the days of plenty, the warm sunny days of Spring.”

“You’re always talkin’ about yer garden. I jus’ reckon it’s too cold and windy,” he said through a snarly face.

“I understand Jack, but the whole world is a garden, and you tend it, guide it and look after it just as you would a garden like mine. Why Jack you are in the Spring of your life and I am in my Winter. There is a lot of good in Winter but you have to look hard to find it, but for the garden Winter is time to hibernate and get ready for the busy times of Spring and Summer. But something has to herald the change from Winter to Spring because the change is so radical. Anything which heralds such radical change can’t necessarily be pleasant, so you grin and bear it knowing full well that what is to come is better than what you have.”

“Yeah, I s’pose. I thought I heard the bell, see yer later.” The young boy was off across the park wondering why he ever asked the question and the old man watched him reminiscing to himself about all that has gone by and if only he had pruned his life to bear fruit as well as he had pruned his Nectarine tree.

And over and over he repeated a small piece of prose he once read, which simply said, “The daunting August winds of change bring with them the warm sweet aroma of Spring.”

Spring arrived, the Azaleas bloomed and the fruit trees filled with blossoms. Jack stopped most mornings to chat with Mr Chelsea and admire his garden.

The hot still days of summer arrived and the buzz of Cicadas greeted the two friends during their regular morning meetings. Then one morning mid December Jack announced, “Last day of School today Mr Chelsea.”

“So I won’t be seeing you past here for a few months then Jack?

“No I’m off to high school next year Mr Chelsea. I won’t be walking this way anymore, Mum will drop me off at the top of the hill on her way to work. Look after that garden,” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran off to greet his friends waiting in the park.

The old man smiled a smile of happiness and loss like only adults can and went back to watering his garden.