Christmas is Coming

At Ballara house we had a Passion-fruit Vine that spread and flowered with such enthusiasm in the early months of Spring that even I - at that point much hungrier than I am these days - began to quiver at the thought of consuming the fruit that was to come.

Thus it was to my memorable despair around this time last year when I was informed that this was a decorative Passion-fruit vine, one that promised so much but ultimately only spread like a parasite throughout my garden and my heart.

At that point I took to ripping as much of the vine out as I could. A few days later though, after a December shower sprouts of vine poked out the earth and within hours began writhing across all surfaces and latching onto anything within reaching distance and growing themselves upwards. I've never felt more futile as a gardener, although I haven't much experience. Nevertheless I still have dreams about the rapid and all-encompassing engulfment my backyard experienced from those vines.

I tell this story because I had a similar experience today, with tinsel at the office. It started in a big pile next to someone who had had a North Pole Express trainset running loops around their dual-monitors (Jealous! Of both) and by lunchtime had branched out to wrap around every corner and pole of every cubicle in sight.

It was glorious.