Sylvania Day

It was the day after this year's Melting Festival and we'd had two days celebrating the beauty of the spring season and its connection to the Snow Queen. Although it had been immensely enjoyable we were tired out and had slept longer when we eventually retired to our beds. It had been a busy festival. 

I had been involved both in the preparation of and the participation in the musical aspects. I'd arranged vocal parts so that Sandro Lopez could teach his school choir. Although it's not my main instrument I am sufficiently competent on the piano accordion to accompany Isambard Marmalade on his guitar and to play for the country dancers.

The traditional bunny hunt - searching for chocolate eggs hidden around the woodland surrounding the village green, trying to win the prize of the big chocolate bunny - had been popular as usual. Given the experience of previous hunts, Eve Wildwood and the other organisers had refined the rules to try and remove loopholes. Even so, the team of Waters children won the main prize; their uncles had trained them well. A bigger surprise to me (and to Cecile) was that our children had worked together and earned third prize. Brendan, Orton, Lucky Snow-Warren, Nolly Persis, Hughie Grunt, Figwort and Chervil Ivory had worked one side of the green. The other side of the green was worked by Beverley, Biddie, Lena Dandelion, Aster and Anise Ivory plus Lisa and Sophie Snow-Warren. Fourteen children meant that portions of the prize were diminished somewhat. Beverley saw our faces and explained their elation with a single word. "Prestige".

We kept awake long enough to conclude the day with the traditional melted chocolate, sugared bread sticks and mugs of milk, but only just.

As I said at the outset, it was the day after the festival. We allowed the children to sleep late whilst Cecile and I relaxed in the kitchen, still in our night clothes. 

We thought we'd have some quiet time together but that wasn't as long as we thought. We were joined by young Orton, Snorker by his side..

"Auntie Cecile, Uncle Jack," he said, "I hope you can help me."

o 0 O 0 o

"I know we have the Melting every year but it set me thinking," Orton began. "I've thought about it each year since I've been here, but I said nothing. I decided it was about time I did."

Cecile and I looked at each other. Had something been bothering the lad all this time? He answered our unspoken question immediately.  

"I've not mentioned it as I didn't want to hurt PapaMerle or Mummle. It relates to my Mamma and Dadda."

That made sense. His biological parents - Erika and Martyn Butterglove - had been lost following a shipwreck and that led to the boy coming to us and having my brother Merlin and his wife Eliza becoming his surrogate parents. He settled well and became firmly integrated into a loving extended family. When it later transpired that Erika and Martyn were alive and had elected not to return, we found it difficult to understand. Oddly, Orton understood better than any of us. We supposed he knew his parents best. The question was, why did they concern Orton now?

He didn't need prompting. Orton, remarkably mature for his age, had clearly planned how he was going to tell us about those concerns.

"I travelled all over the place with Mamma and Dadda. We went to look after rare plants and animals in lots of places. I saw how they supervised building special greenhouses and setting up conditions so that leekberry plants would thrive. I was there when they helped set up breeding programmes for swamp chindlings. And that's just two things. They did lots."

We knew the couple were highly dedicated to conservation and the preservation of the Sylvanian flora and fauna. Erika Burroughs was already quite famous in this regard before she met and married Martyn Butterglove. 

The birth of their son Orton barely affected their combined zeal to make a difference, protecting Sylvanian wildlife. It was the main reason they didn't return.

"Yes, they did lots," Orton continued. "It was even more obvious on Sylvania Day. Every year, without fail, we would go to the nearest village celebrating the day. It was a special occasion. We didn't do Christmas or anything like that but we did celebrate Sylvania Day. Mamma and Dadda had written down everything they'd achieved over the year and  they shared the good news with the village. It was lovely. I was proud of them."

He stopped. He was clearly remembering those special times with his parents.

Cecile spoke gently to the lad. "It sounds lovely, dear. Why would you think mentioning it might hurt your papa Merlin or mummy Eliza?"

"Well... we don't seem to celebrate Sylvania Day in Mellowdene. It makes it harder to slip into conversation. It's the time I miss Mamma and Dadda the most. But I don't want to make it seem like I'm unhappy here. I love Mummle and PapaMerle."

"Oh you poor thing," said Cecile, giving him a hug. "I suppose the Melting reminds you of what you're  missing on Sylvania Day. But you should never be afraid of talking about your Mamma and Dadda. Merlin and Eliza would understand."

"I don't want to leave Mellowdene. I'd hate for them to think I want to go back to Mamma and Dadda. You don't think me mentioning Sylvania Day would do that?"

"Not a chance," I said. "You said you love your Mummle and PapaMerle? Well, we know they love you too. We all love you, Orton. If you want to celebrate Sylvania Day, we all will."

"Really?"

"Definitely. The fact Mellowdene doesn't make a big deal out of Sylvania Day doesn't mean we care any less about the environment. We could probably argue how Mellowdene cares a great deal about it. We don't burn coal and our cars don't use petrol; we have fireglass.  We light up our streets and houses with sparkfly technology. Our fridges don't need power because we use coolsalt. Thanks to your Uncle Newton's connection to the Sylvanian Research Group, the village's waste management site uses machines that process our waste cleanly. We could probably write a list of lots of things like that."

"I suppose so," said Orton.

"Maybe we could do that, highlighting what we do as our reason to be grateful next Mellowdene Day. But why wait? How would you like to celebrate Sylvania Day? Something to make your Mamma and Dadda proud?"

"We could read something from Mamma's books," he said referring to the numerous published tomes by Erika Burroughs. "Are you sure it wouldn't hurt Mummle or PapaMerle?" 

"Do you really think your Papa Merlin would object to reading anything?" said Cecile, giving the boy a playful nudge.

Orton chuckled. "No."

"Do you want us to have a word with your Papa first?"   

"Would you do that?"

"Happy to, but only if you want. Either way we can't have you worrying every year."

"Oh, I don't worry too long. I always give Snorker a cuddle and he makes his kissy noises. Everything is fine soon afterwards."

What a sensible little lad. We nodded in understanding. Eliza's pet mountain hog helped settle Orton upon his arrival in Mellowdene. Most assuredly part of the family, we're quite aware how Snorker is capable of putting minds at rest. He sleeps next to Orton's bed and welcomes cuddles at any time.

Actually, it occurred to me that Orton's attitude towards his birth parents was more mature than mine. Mellowdene might be at the forefront of some aspects of protecting  the environment but there were other aspects to preserving Sylvania. Erika and Martyn Butterglove were actively helping rare creatures and plant life to survive. If Orton was comfortable with their choices, who was I to think less of them? Clearly Sylvania Day was his way of balancing their achievements against their responsibilities for him. 

 

As Orton left, I turned to Cecile. "I suppose I should know. When is Sylvania Day?"

The look I received in response spoke volumes. 

"Never mind. I'll find out."

o 0 O 0 o 

The Future of Cherry Blossom Park (Part 2)

"I'd like to take action based upon the findings of the Housing Survey," said Bill Waddlington, deputy mayor of Mellowdene. "We want more houses in the village itself rather than expanding at the edges. The vast majority opted for homes like those in Cherry Blossom Avenue. They liked the style and everything those fine homes provided."

"I see," said Ben. "Rowan Ivory was the architect and I have to say that his plans were particularly clever transforming what was a difficult landscape into the Avenue. It's true that the houses have been very much admired."

"Yes. And that's why we'd like to extend the avenue."

Ben frowned. "Extend it? There isn't room to do that."

"I have every confidence you'll find a way."

"There are currently twenty houses. Even one extra house would block the road at the river side."

"Couldn't you bend it back on itself? There's some land there, I believe."

"The rock gardens? All those varieties of heather?" Ben stared at the deputy mayor. "Even if we were prepared to destroy that, we'd need to demolish number nineteen to properly extend the avenue back on itself. And they wouldn't have Cherry Blossom Avenue addresses as the new homes would be adjacent to Stonecrop Lane."

"Hmm. Good point. It would be better to extend the Avenue at the other end."

"Cherry Blossom Park? We couldn't do that."

"Of course you could. We have some excellent landscape gardeners in the village. The Park could be relocated. The new houses could replace the old Park site. We might need to renumber the existing house addresses..."

Ben shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mister Deputy Mayor, but that isn't the kind of work that Henry-Lloyd Construction does."

Bill Waddlington raised his brow, fidgeted with his medallion of office and paused to think. "That's disappointing. We wanted the same care of design. That was paramount. I didn't want to approach companies outside Mellowdene. They might be able to copy the style but it wouldn't be what we want."

"Cherry Blossom Park is too important. It is an oasis for meditation. No matter who you contracted to do the work I don't believe Mellowdenians would agree to its destruction."

"Movement, not destruction."

"It amounts to the same thing. We couldn't be part of that."

"Well, I'd like you to go away and reconsider. Failing that, come up with an alternative for houses as beautiful as those on Cherry Blossom Avenue."

o 0 O 0 o

"And that was the end of the meeting," said Ben. "I discussed all this with my father and with Hector Corntop and the consensus was we needed someone with the inspiration of Rowan Ivory. The concept of using the rough land alongside The Wedge, adapting the houses accordingly, was all your brother's idea, Cecile. We need another good idea."

I couldn't keep silent. "I can't believe Bill Waddlington would even consider threatening Cherry Blossom Park. Or the Rock Garden, come to think of it. And the Park is used for so many who go there to enjoy the silence and think of those who have passed."

"I know," said Ben. "As a mayor, Ramsey Nettlefield does a good job for Mellowdene despite his minor faults. We tolerate his over ambitious schemes because we know they rarely get anywhere - but he would never..." He gave a long sigh. "The funny thing is I considered Bill Waddlington to be an efficient chap and a great addition to the council. He has proved to be a benefit to the village's administration -  but I didn't think that efficiency would make him so cold and dismissive."

The door opened and in came Rowan, Hector Corntop in his wake.

"Eliza let us in. Hector's been telling me about that numpty, Bill Waddlington."

o 0 O 0 o

The discussion was quite intense. I could tell Rowan was annoyed by the way he was walking about during the chat. Everyone agreed that Cherry Blossom Park must remain untouched. No one liked the idea of touching the Rock Garden either.

"What about continuing Cherry Blossom Avenue at the other side of the park?" suggested Hector. "Call it Cherry Blossom Close or something like that?"

"It would mean getting the allotment holders to move," said Ben.

"If the Park was relocated, you'd have the same issue," said Rowan, "unless there were four, or at most six new houses. How many homes did Waddlington want?"

"He didn't get far enough to tell me. Our meeting went downhill as soon as Cherry Blossom Park became an issue."

Cecile stood. "Wait a minute. Did Bill definitely say he was fixed upon extending Cherry Blossom Avenue, or did he just want something to the same quality?"

Ben considered. "He started by saying he wanted to extend the avenue, but when I left he said 'houses as beautiful as' the avenue."

"Perhaps we could push the latter," said Cecile.

"He'd want something in the village rather than at the outskirts," said Ben, "so we'd need to find a suitable location. Any ideas, Hector?"

"Nothing obvious," said Hector Corntop who then turned to Rowan. "How about you, Rowan? Can you think of anywhere where your design skills would fit?"

"Me?" said Rowan. "I've not done any architectural design for years and you've been doing it all the time I've been away. These days you've got more experience than me."

"Not your flair though, mate. And you know as well as me that your tricksy mind lets you think laterally. It appears as though Bill Waddlington might be swayed by your design skills. Divert his attention from Cherry Tree Park."

"We'd be grateful," said Ben.

"It sounds as though the whole village would be grateful," I added.

"Well..." Rowan regarded both of his former workmates in turn. "I could have a look."

o 0 O 0 o

The following day, Cecile was busy on the telephone so I left her to it and went to make a sandwich. She subsequently called me back into the room, a smile on her face.

"A couple of things. Firstly, Rowan has taken a job at Henry-Lloyd Construction. Temporary for now, but who knows? He's looking into finding somewhere for a dozen houses that he will design."

"That's good. Has Ben informed Bill Waddlington?"

"That's the second thing. You and I - plus a couple of others - have been invited to see Bill later today. We will find out what's happening about the whole Cherry Blossom Park thing."

o 0 O 0 o

When we arrived at Bill Waddlington's office, Ben Henry-Lloyd was there but also - surprisingly - so was Cecile's cousin Coltsfoot Ivory. He and the deputy mayor were laughing and they stopped when we entered.

"Hi Cess," said Colt. "Good news, eh?"

He saw my confusion and added, "Rowan back working as an architect, Jack. Good news."

Bill Waddlington laughed. "The plan worked," he said, which confused me even more.

Ben explained. "I was in the dark too. It appears Cecile and Colt conspired with our deputy mayor to con Rowan to resume his calling as an architect."

Colt nodded. "I agreed with Cess that Rowan needed to do this. Flitting about with part time jobs could only last so long. He needs stability both for himself and his family. I've seen his work for the Henry-Lloyds and - with my engineer hat on - I can say his aptitude is tremendous. I can't abide waste."

"And we owed him a prank," said Cecile. "Incidental to the matter in hand, but we did."

Everything was beginning to make sense. Cecile had expressed her concerns about her brother's ephemeral employment. Was this all one big prank to help settle Rowan Ivory? I asked the deputy mayor.

"The Cherry Blossom Park thing?" said Bill. "Never going to happen. I was talking to my old friend Colt about the need for high quality housing and he told me about Rowan and how he had designed his house. How he had abandoned his job years ago and how he might need a push to get back. Colt brought in your good lady wife and we formulated a plan."

"Our meeting was apparently one big act," said Ben.

"It was fun pretending to be horrible," said Bill.

"I'm still not sure why I wasn't brought in on this," Ben mused.

"You had to be convincing in order to get Rowan all fired up," said Cecile. "I know my brother."

"And me, Cess?" I said. "Why didn't you let me know?"

"Ah, my love, I love seeing the sense of confusion on your darling face."

"At least you weren't called a numpty," said Bill.

I guess I will have to be content at that.

o 0 O 0 o