Sindacollo

I was stumped for a short story concept till I decided to tell the tale of an inanimate object in my possession and of its most recent experience...

I have many powers and serve many purposes but it takes a human to discover and awaken those in me. I am nothing if I am alone but once I am held and worn by a person I can be many wonderful things. Recently a new power was discovered for me and I am still abuzz with the thrill of it.

I had been taken to a picnic and lay inconspicuously by the purpose-made picnic blankets. I have been a picnic blanket many-a-time but most of those events involve adults only - this one also involved children of a very playful and imaginative age. Yes I grant you - the adults I interact with tend to be playful and imaginative too. Nonetheless it has been a while since a new power of mine was discovered and this one is a doozy!

In conjunction with a child wearing me I became a boulder! It was fantastic. We blended in well with the setting and fooled passers-by. However the children there could all still see us and soon each child wanted to take a turn using me to become a boulder. One of the adults expressed concern for my welfare but my owner dismissed such concern, knowing, as he does, that I am made of sturdy stuff and have passed many tests of endurance. I did, however, notice that he was monitoring my activity just in case my wild magic exceeded safe proportions, making intervention necessary.

I was made at a workshop along with others of my ilk a long time ago. I lose track of time, spending as much of it as I do in wardrobes, but I suspect that if I were human I would now be granted the vote. As it is, however, I am aware of the passing of time in the form of a shifting array of scents and forms. The coterie of humans that I meet has slowly changed over time.

I need humans to make me more than just a pile of cloth in a corner, and likewise I sometimes find it useful to work in conjunction with other objects to work my magic. With a few other items including a big stick (redefined as a staff) I became one of the Istari - a wizard from Middle Earth and the character that had originally inspired my grey colouration. I have pockets which allow me to hold such things as sparklers and a small jar of glitter which helped me evoke the image of Gandalf The Grey at a masquerade ball.

At other times I have partnered with a toy light saber to help depict a Jedi. What fun light saber duels can be with all the swishing and swirling around and feeling the wind of our movements. The light saber told me that the joy for it, however, came from making hissing and crackling sounds, which I must admit is something beyond my ken.

And yet another time I worked with a card-paper model skull to become some sort of eight foot tall puppet death. At a party we scared some of the machismo from someone who was very much in need of having his mere mortality exposed to himself. You have to trust me, however, in saying that I am usually employed to enhance positive, rather than negative, experiences.

I have often been an extra blanket at sleep-overs and camps. I have been an instant tent in which between two and four friends can gather for some warmth. Some startling things have happened under me. If only humans knew just how much items of cloth notice and remember, they would be rather nonplussed.

There have been a few difficult experiences in all of this. On a walk once a part of me was ripped by thorns. Luckily I was mended. I do wish my owner would attach a proper clasp to me - this button and loop-of-string is hardly the most attractive. Yes I am a functional garment but I feel that some bling could give me a bit of a lift as I get older.

I hope for much more of this. I enjoy sleeping in wardrobes but I am only truly me once I am taken and worn and shared. And if I can become a boulder then what other powers lie in my future for others to find? Life is good for this grey cloak.

The word 'sindacollo' means 'grey cloak' and is taken from the Elvish invented by J R R Tolkien.

Summer Holidays

I spent a week between Boxing Day and the start of 2012 in tents with friends at a camping and caravan park in Stony Point. This is an annual practice (at different locales) that I have participated in a number of times and is becoming more a part of my life. The setting in 2010-2011 even inspired some short fiction.

I started in 2006-2007 by only visiting for an afternoon and then somehow staying till the next day. Bit-by-bit I have allocated more of my holiday time to the event. Eventually it just becomes difficult to depart once I'm there. Some of what follows is descriptive of what we did and some is an exploration of why such vacations may be significant to humans.

The Setting

Stony Point is a very different location from Balnarring Beach or Rosebud. It is a natural and legal cul-de-sac wedged between mangroves and military land and accessed by just one road and the last train station on a line. It is dominated by fishing and this diminishes the attractiveness of the beach itself. However the caravan park as a temporary home and the setting overall is very nice and relaxing and has a convenient old milkbar.

For me as an avid walker this felt a bit limiting till I discovered that there was a kind of bush track parallel with the railway line and that I could wander some distance into the mangroves. There I discovered a spot to stand around dawn that was so very tranquil and centring for me. Tiny waves coursing with sunlight would gently lap in over my feet and I looked and listened and smelt beyond my own person. Lovely. More lovely still however was our slowly growing tent village back at camp.

The Pastimes

Friends and friends of friends gathering and having a lazy time in tents and camping furniture - this was the default activity of the week. Chatting. Cooking. Eating. Drinking. Reading. For a few days the group did nothing much more than this. Eventually however we started to take drives to assorted activities in groups of a few to several.

Wandering in supermarkets in Hastings seemed to be a key activity and it is a strangely fun thing to do with friends. Possibly friends make anything worthwhile. More vital however was submersion in water which I did in three distinct ways. One was the Peninsula Hot Springs which are cleverly constructed in such a way that every element, wood, stone, water, is calculated to make one feel mellow. There are pools of varying temperature and even a grotto in which we enjoy finding the resonant frequency and humming. Another site of watery joy was an ocean beach past Flinders in which I went looking at underwater habitats (eschewing the snorkling attire I had been offered for my trusty goggles). And the best of all was Somers Beach.

Somers was a location I went to many times as a child during extended family gatherings in hired holiday houses. It is a lovely beach that is neither too wild nor too tame and perfect for group play. It also pinged a memory for me with startling precision. The path from the carpark to the beach was once a winding bit of sand and now it is nicely constructed steps. Nonetheless at a particular bend in the path I suddenly remembered that that was the spot on which I had once been bitten by a bull ant. Wow. Luckily that experience never quashed my fondness for ants.

Eternal Summer

Why do modern-day lovers of convenience and security deliberately give some of that away (temporarily) on a regular basis? I was pondering this in some moments in Stony Point and have a few notions. There is always the old getting back to nature explanation and that is part of it. I also feel however there is a more specific aspect of nature at work. As our group got bigger the vibe changed from small intimate gathering that could sit in one big tent to a larger but still familiar community that would play catch with the resident toddler of the group.

The desire I think we are satisfying in such temporary hamlets across the Mornington Peninsula is a primal preference for community. There was a camaraderie and a sense of interdependence. The norm was to serve others as much as oneself - to help and be helped. This was well illustrated by collaborative tent constructions that felt like tiny barn-raisings.

A group is always composed of distinct persons however and so I will end with a few personal thanks for enhancing my experience at Stony Point. To Varia for sketching tips, Kat for shopping and philosophy, Belinda and Katrina for snorkling and a Southern Fiddler Ray, Stretch & Gaby for transport and Tintin, and Evil Sarah for facilitating the fun that we all made for ourselves.