I haven't seen my friend Jane for a few weeks, but I think of her often, probably daily. There are many triggers in my routine that spark thoughts of her and leave me feeling the better for it, such is the charm and grace of this lovely lady. I have no doubt that had we been born closer to each other and met at another stage of our lives, I would have fallen in love with her, and she would have been a wonderful life partner. In the forty odd years that I have known her she has never been anythng but warm and welcoming with a down to earth matter of fact approach to life and the world that does not detract from her sophistication and obvious intelligence.
Sometimes I go months without seeing her, such is the nature of my busy and demanding life/work schedule. Every year for about three decades I have picked copper beech in summer from the massive tree in her front garden. Also in spring I pick blossom from her pieris. In winter I pick up the fallen autumn leaves from the deciduous trees in her garden which carpet the ground and often I pick camellia foliage. The leaves I take home in bags and put them out in my garden as mulch, and as I admire my garden and its beauty I'm thankful to Jane's leaves for playing a part.
At the same time I know not a lot about her life before I met her. She's a private person despite her ability to have wonderful conversation, which is rarely about her. She has always maintained some mystery to me. I know she lived in Sydney as a young person, I know she lived in Perth for a time where she worked possibly, I'm not sure, for the ABC. I know she lived in St Kilda with her husband before they moved to Emerald. I once aked her if I could do a Signpost profile about her but she declined politely.
I recall meeting Jane and her husband at the farm in the late 1970's, but if I'm wrong there it was the early 1980's after I'd returned to work at the farm. I was working in Wangaratta 1976-1981 and often came home for weekends. She was small and pretty and well dressed in a skirt with a matching jacket top and impressed me with her easy smiling demeanor. Her husband was garrulous if memory serves me well, also well dressed in a tweed jacket and tie. I think he was retired and talked much about the stock market where he invested for both his livelihood and hobby. They married late and had no children. They were in the family room at the farm as my father had the habit of inviting everyone in much to my mother Elvie's annoyance.
I don't know how long after this it was but husband died suddenly, so for most of the time I have known Jane she has been a widow, at least for the the last three decades that we've had friendship. Through this time until she had a car accident about five years ago, she worked for a few specialists in Melbourne, writing up reports etc in a broad sort of secretarial role. The Volvo she drove had an altercation with a tram which finally ended her employment when well into her eighties.
Our friendship started when we were short of copper beech and my father Lyle said to me that Jane T had said we could take foliage from her tree as it was way too big and encroaching on the house spouting. In the thirty years since I've never met a more warm hearted person so willing to share anything in her garden. "My garden is your garden," she often says.
Jane lives in a side road that enters and exits the main road in Emerald that I drive each day I go to the farm. Many times I say to myself I must call and see Jane soon and have a cup of coffee with her.
I last saw her a few weeks ago. I pruned a large tibouchina for her while Gord transferred some of last autumn's leaves from the big wool bales 'Big John' had put them into, to our small bags that we could lift. We did this also the previous week, and two weeks before that I had picked tall camellia foliage for a customer who buys tall foliage every Friday. 'Big John' is Jane's rear neighbour whom I have known for many years and who shares my regard for Jane, and looks after her better than a son would. He drives her to her many medical appointments and keeps a daily watch on her.
On one of our recent visits I was so pleased to see Jane in her garden on a rare sunny day after weeks of bleakness. She was wearing a black shirt with colourful bright pink and white markings and she was getting about the garden on her walking frame picking daffodils. Her smile beamed and it was obvious she was thrilled to be outside. Gord waited in the car outside as I was only going to be ten minutes. I told Jane I'd come to the door when I was finished to get some hemp oil she said she had that might help Lib's rash. I went into the back yard, picked my bunches, and with quite a load on my shoulder I took it out to my van without turning as I went through the front garden and put my load in the van. Then, returning to go to the front door to say goodbye and get the hemp oil, I was horrified to see Jane lying on the cold ashphalt with a pool of blood near her head. I had walked past her without seeing her a few minutes earlier. She looked like a thin broken insect but was still conscious.
I was scared I'd break bones lifting her such is her frailty. In retrospect probably I should have got blankets and made her comfortable and called an ambulance. Jane and I decided that I should help her get inside, which she had been trying to do before I saw her. With great difficulty and as much care as I could I helped her to her feet and half carried her inside as she could manage only a shuffle with her feet.
We managed to get to the bathroom where I bathed her headwound which had a large swelling. Jane said she didn't want me to ring an ambulance, they'd take her to hospital where there were idiots. She did not like my suggestion that I ring my doctor brother-in-law, not wanting to be a nuisance. I insisted that I should get the ambos to check her out, saying she may get delayed concussion or bleeding internally. She eventually conceded that I ring 'Big John'. "I'm on my way," was his response and he was there in two minutes.
John has been through other fall incidents with Jane and I was relieved that he immediatly backed my judgement and rang for an ambulance. It came within half an hour, they had much equipment and asked Jane many questions. "How old are you?"
"Ninety," she said, but she did not know what day of the week it was, nor the date, unlike her, so she was concussed. They took her on the trolley with their bright lights to the ambulance through the dark of the cold evening which had set. I was relieved to get John's call later that night that she was stabilized and would be in hospital a day or two.
When I saw her the following week she was apologetic to have caused me inconvenience. She's banned from going outside now but remains optimistic that her situation will improve.
Jane is a dear friend and a magnificent brave lady. An inspiration to me as I approach any difficulty that comes along.
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