The Paddingtonian

Amy Davoren-Rose on rolling with the seasons

There’s something magical about that first full bloom of jacaranda each year. Even though we’re still wrapped up in cardigans and socks, those tiny purple flowers herald in warmer days, afternoon beach dips and evening strolls for ice-cream. 

It’s the annual gear shift that usually brings with it a flurry of invitations and deadlines, as well as the sudden urge to detox your body and Marie Kondo your home. However, this year that shift felt different. Which is no big surprise given everything about this year has felt disruptive and unexpected. 

When the jacarandas blossomed outside my window in mid-October, it was as if a familiar balance had been restored. Nature has impeccable timing. Just when we needed a boost, there was a lilac spark of hope that somehow, everything was going to be okay. 

One of my favourite stories about hope happened after the Hiroshima bomb. The area was decimated and everyone assumed that nothing could possibly grow in the radioactive ground for at least 75 years. But a few months after the blast, a small patch of oleander flowers bloomed out of the rubble. 

Hope seems to thrive in the rocky ground of crisis and it makes me wonder what will sprout from the rubble of this year?

2020 has been tough. I challenge anyone to debate that.

But despite the hardships (or maybe because of them), we’ve discovered that joy can be locally grown from simple pleasures. We’ve had adventures in our own backyard and realised that what we’ve been craving is simply a change of pace, and a little more space in our days. 

This year has changed our community from something we live in to something we belong to. We’ve come home to ourselves and each other and will never take for granted the opportunity to hug someone. 

Jacaranda season is a lovely reminder that change is constant, and this too shall pass. From bare branches the flowers bloom, they fall to the ground making way for green leaves and summer days until the air cools, the leaves drop and the whole cycle begins again.

One thing I know is that if hope really does have wings, they’d be made from the purple flowers of jacaranda trees, especially the ones that grow in Paddington. Just in case, I might keep a couple stored in an airtight container to take into next year.