Are chestnuts really the answer?

Chestnuts!, his mum said

“Be reasonable”

Are chestnuts really the answer?

Wiping his swollen eyes, the dust fell with ease onto the tatami mat below.

I saw some guy at the market use them, they must work.

Yeah but I’ve lived 50 years on this Hearth and never heard someone suggest

CHESTNUTS

You must be nuts, saying that with your chest

I got a flat pair of chest nuts for you lad!

His dad giggled to himself in the corner then returned to his silent reading.


The farm occupies a unique place in the dreamland. I often visualise Dora as a lotus leaf with the edges of a banana tree. Next to Dora is I, a lotus seed, lean and sharply sculptured by the mountain winds. Lost in translation, I am held dearly in the middle of Mum's palm.

So when she tells stories from the farm, building the landscape of that dreamland, I can never grasp how I grew chestnuts. I would pass Dora every morning on that walk through the farmland on the way to our blue hut. It was in that hut that Mum would close her gentle fire and breathe at last.

After this unjust scolding, from another mum, lost in translation, we covered our faces and hands with blankets as the town passed through us. Even at One, stumbling along cobbled Belo streets holding Mum’s hand I knew she would not mind if he thought about all those wonderful things in the darkness.



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