Romancing the Tree

I've been touring America with rose-coloured glasses; every city is more exciting than the one before; every meal is better than the last; every book shop a tad better than the previous; every tree more beautiful than its neighbour - there's something magical about America's trees. And I know, you're thinking, she's gone mad (or has run out of things to write about); it's not like Australia's a treeless country. All she has to do is glance out the window here and look, see, there's a bloody tree. But not these trees, I'd say to you, nothing like these trees.

Why on earth are you going to America? my brother asked - for the trees, James, for the glorious oaks and hickory, loblolly pine, ash, adler, birch and maple, trees that even in winter's midst, when most have no leaves to speak of, are the rainbow's end of treasure.

And before you start saying to the computer screen, what's wrong with this person - if she's going on and on about trees and comparing them to rainbows, Margot must have slipped something into her hot chocolate - I'll move on to the facts.

After our first day's adventures, what with conquering Washington and all, we were understandably fatigued so it was lovely to be able to visit the King family in Vienna,Virginia, and enjoy good company and a delicious home-cooked meal (I really would like that zucchini and tomato recipe, please). My dad and Ken King went to university together way back in the distant past, and we see him and his four daughter every so often when they visit Australia. We left with full stomachs and a jar of Marmite that the wonderful Alessandra (an excellent cook too) gave us, which, if not Vegemite, was pretty damn close.

Day two was capital business: we had the Air and Space Museum to look over, then there was the small matter of lunch in China Town, which was followed by a return trip to that Barnes and Nobles bookshop we like to frequent.

Afterwards it was off to the ballet. Lou and Harriet took us to the Kennedy Center where we saw a mixed repertory program from the American Ballet Theatre: Birthday Offering (Ashton/Glazunov), Seven Sonatas (Ratmansky/Scarlatti) and the Brahms-Haydn Variations (Tharp/Brahms). The whole time I was thinking of that song from Chorus Line. You know (and I'm sure you all do know) that one about being happy at the ballet? It's true. The moment I stepped through those doors and on to that red carpet I was happy. Happy in an 'I won pass the parcel' kind of way or 'I got to go home early', or even an 'I had a block of chocolate to eat and I didn't have to share it with anyone if I didn't want to' way. That kind of happy.

Harriet told us that when she and Lou first came to the theatre thirty-five years ago, women had worn long evening dresses. So I was happy that times had changed, because even when I was thinking how pretty, how glamorous, how gosh-darn gorgeous it must have been, I was also thinking how I'd forgotten to pack that evening gown in my backpack.

I enjoy the end of the ballet as much as the dancing. When everyone, from the principal dancers to the conductor, make their bows and the audience claps, keeps clapping, for all the world looking like they enjoy clapping when inside they're thinking, my hands are so sore and please won't the person next to me stop so I can stop and I'm sure we've already clapped her and does he really deserve that many claps, and they have to keep clapping because now that man or that woman, depending on which side the dancer is standing, comes out with all those flowers - and where do those flowers come from? It's the middle of winter, for christ's sake - and the dancers all look surprised wearing that who-me expression as if they weren't expecting the flowers, even though they know that we know they were expecting them, because that's what happens night after night. I really enjoy that part.

Today we've been in Annapolis, the capital of Maryland, which is found in the Chesapeake Bay area (home to so many books Margs and I love). I've been mishearing this as Minneapolis and actually thought we were going there, and thank god we weren't because it's minus fifteen degrees in Minnesota today.

Lou took us in his vintage (this seemed an appropriate word as I have no idea the exact year) jag so I could almost picture us on the front cover of the USA Lonely Planet guide. The sun made a visit after days of cloud-coated skies so it was perfect walking weather. We strolled the streets, passed by buildings of great historical significance, finally had those famed crab cakes followed by a banana and chocolate chip cake, which if it isn't already should be as widely praised as the crab cakes, and took a turn of the United States Naval Academy with its magnificent buildings and grounds.

I could picture myself there - resplendent in the navy-coloured uniform, gold buttons gleaming, hat perched jauntily on head - engaged in sailory activities and had already in my head moved in to one of the dormitories overlooking the bay. On leaving the pretty town, I saw a group of energetic runners practically sprinting in their haste to be as fit as fit can be and on closer observation I discovered they were all students at the academy and so decided I didn't really want to be spending my afternoons running and promptly moved out of my imaginary dorm room.

Lou took us past a secondhand bookshop on the way home, big mistake, and Margs and I went a little (lot) crazy. I came out clutching my nine-book loot and Margs added five more to her tally. We really must send some home soon.

So now you're up to date with my state of mind as much as our daily activities. From Washington and Maryland we go to Lou and Harriet's house in New Jersey where we can be found until Saturday when we go to New York.

I'm hoping every one of you will immediately go down to your local plant store and purchase an American tree or three and plant them around Australia so that when I come home I can find some magic there. xox