NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
References:
6. Diddlie’s Disaster, 89. Under the Ashes, 132. Compost 141. Breaking Glass
Text from Diddlie.
“Pruning today?”
“🐛”
“What is that supposed to mean? Are you about to become a chrysalis?”
“”
“I am, none the wiser! Can’t you give me a plain answer?”
“👀 U 🕛, dig?”
“Okay, I expect you at noon!”
I walk up Oval Hill and find Diddlie in her front yard. Camouflaged by her green overalls that would be effective were it not for the bright silvery buckles catching a sunbeam on the suspenders.
She looks up from under her grey sun visor.
“Thanks for coming over, Fred.”
“Nice crop of elder spreading around here.”
“They are spreading like the redbuds. Look at them all!”
She points to a group of redbud seedlings rising above the periwinkle and ivy.
“Yes, I remember all those dangling pods on that mature tree over there, last year.”
“I think there has been more growth than usual this year.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to look.
“Who is it?”
“It’s junk from the Macadamia PAC.”
“Oh, forget it!”
“Today is the summer solstice, longest day of the year, so I hope it is a good one!”
“It is Father’s Day too, Fred.”
“What are we doing here? We should be shopping for dear old Dad!”
“You know, my father did not approve, Fred.”
“Why? What’s the harm?”
“You just pointed it out! Too commercial.”
“I never took much notice of it.”
“The solstice is more important through history. Think of Stonehenge for one thing.”
“The ancients had none of our modern distractions, Did.”
“Well, there’s plenty of light for our job, and it is the beginning of sweaty summer!”
She hands me a pair of loppers from her garden cart.
“Can you reach all those over-hanging branches?”
The path towards the back, on the other side of the house from the carport, is like a tunnel under dogwood, wild cherry, crabapple and juniper branches. All draped with wisteria and Virginia creeper. The sun penetrates in patches of light, and where it is brightest the shade next to it is like a patch of moonless night. Periwinkle and violets dominate under the hydrangeas at the beginning of the path and liriope is taking over in the lawn under the white oaks.
“Shall I cut these grape vines?”
“That’s not grape. It is porcelain-berry.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It is probably all over your yard. Take a look when you get home.”
My phone gets another call from Macadamia’s PAC.
“Fred, why don’t you turn that thing off?”
“Turn it off? What about my dependency?”
“Yet another invasive! Those things set the whole dragon of my being on fire.”
“Invasives, you mean?”
“Both electronic invasives and vegetable.”
“Diddlie, I had no idea of this dragon in you!”
“No, it was revealed to me, or should I say awakened? by the Red Queen.”
“When was that?”
“When she got back from a flight last year, or was it the year before, maybe.”
“Quite a revelation!”
“She is that kind of bird. She kept saying, “Turn it off” every time it my phone sounded.”
“I thought she stayed in the house most of the time.”
“Well, she used to. Now she’s getting cabin ever.”
“Is it the Spring?”
“Something is roused within her.”
I point down the path with so many subtle shades of green along its length. It seems to run straight for a hundred yards or more.
“There’s someone down there, look.”
Diddlie holds her secateurs by one handle, down at her left side.
The wisteria’s summer whip she was working on, isn’t fully cut through and hangs down from the redbud it was climbing.
“This is creepy.”
My phone vibrates again. Diddlie notices and grabs my hand to stop me getting it out of my pocket.
We watch a figure leaning on a pole, move in and out of the shade.
Diddlie drops the secateurs in her other hand.
“That’s Mr. Mulepath, I think.”
“Who?”
“Mulepath, I have only seen him, maybe once before.”
“What’s he doing in your yard?”
“That is a persistent question.”
“What do you mean? Seems to me it is a simple question of trespass.”
“That’s because you don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t. Is he an old friend?”
“You could say that, but he’s not the kind of friend you can talk to.”
“Oh, you mean he’s grumpy or withdrawn or something?”
“Watch when he gets to that next dark shady spot, on the path ahead of him.”
He moves slowly with a steady stride, leaning on his pole which rises above his head. His wide floppy trousers flap around his legs, and in the shade, I can see three small lights.
“What’s that on his head?”
“Fred, I think he’s wearing a chaperon.”
“What?”
“A chaperon, a 15th century European men’s hat.”
“He has been walking a long time, and a long way!”
“Well, maybe, you can buy them at specialty stores.”
“Are those lights along the length of his pole?”
“Right, yellow, blue and green.”
“The ones on the end should be broken when he leans on that pole with the end on the ground.”
“They are unbreakable.”
“What kind are they?”
“They are just part of the pole.”
“You mean they grew there?”
“The bioluminescence is still growing in the wood.”
“I thought it only occurs in insects and sea life.”
“Yeah, fireflies around here, Fred.”
“You mean he has a bunch of them on his stick?”
“No, it is in the wood.”
“That is very strange wood. If it is wood, Did!”
“I think it may be an extinct plant.”
“Not quite, if Mulepath can cut a length for his support.”
“Wherever he trimmed off a branch or twig, those three lights shine out of the cut.”
“Well, look how far he has gone. This path seems to extend way beyond your yard. Does it pass through the Trip’s?”
“It extends into the future.”
“Oh, you mean Mulepath is a time traveler.”
“We all are, until we die, that is.”
“No, we are all stuck in the present moment.”
“Right, but those moments pile up into memories and years.”
My phone vibrates in my shirt pocket again. This time I take a look.
“We have been cutting this overgrown path for over two hours!”
“Don’t tell me you got another junk message asking for a contribution for Macadamia’s PAC.”
“Say no more.”
“Yeah, there is a long way to go.”
“Wait a minute, Diddlie. Is this path a path in time when Mulepath isn’t here?”
“Well, Mr. Fawkes told me to keep it trimmed like a hedge on either side and never cut it down.”
“Did he give you any explanation?”
“No, Mr. Lidell would know. It seems much longer today than it ever has before.”
“That rabbit doesn’t say much. Maybe this is an illusion due to the solstice?”
“Maybe, I think it is both an illusion and not an illusion.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean there is a lot of strange stuff in this neighborhood but only a few of us know it.”
“Ain’t that a fact!”
“We are looking into the future!”
“Probably not, it all looks the same.”
“Fred, that’s because we can’t see into the future.”
“Where is the property line?”
“There’s no property lines in time.”
“So, how do we know when to stop? If we follow Mulepath, we shall be trimming here forever.”
My phone is vibrating again.
“I know, it seems like forever already!”
