Day Four

We have a large rhododendron tree/bush next to our deck, beloved of all the birds, a good green and shadowy hiding place close to the feeders and bird-baths.  We were amazed, the first winter in our house, that this luscious deciduous-looking tree, bearer of thick succulent leaves, was in fact an evergreen, and that its approach to cold weather was to change these voluptuous leaves into sort-of fat pine needles.  We learned to judge the outside temperature by how the tree looked every day, and soon began referring to the "temperature-tree", which is what we still affectionately call it.  

When I looked up "rhododendrons in winter", there were all these websites telling me how to look after rhododendrons, how to protect them from the cold by wrapping them with burlap sacks, saying that the biggest killer of rhododendrons was frigid winters.  I think this one is so big, tree-sized really, that it can survive anything.  I am very happy that we have what is clearly a champion rhododendron!  The first time I recall meeting rhododendrons was in London when I was eight years old, and my parents were going through a bad time in their marriage, so my mother and I went to live in England for a while.  One typically grey day we walked through Richmond Park and the beautiful pink, purple, and crimson blossoms filled my astonished eyes and cheered my sunny-South-Africa-starved heart.

Today there was no time for a walk or run, as we slept in and rose very late, and after brunch for all the people in the house, I had to re-open Salon Cuisine to cut Joseph's hair.  I always cut my daughters' hair, and since I met Tim almost 30 years ago, I have been cutting his hair, and also our friend Stephen's, and when the boys came along I naturally cut their hair too.  (In fact the first time they ever went to a barber was when I was away in Cape Town once, after we had moved to America, and Tim took them all for a special treat!)  And sometimes their friends are over when they are having a haircut, and they decide that it is a good idea, and get in line for one too!  

   

One of my most loyal clients

Cutting someone's hair is a peculiarly personal thing to do , and also a great responsibility, as it would not do for your client to be dissatisfied with his appearance once the haircut is finished.  There in front of you he sits, vulnerable, expectant, with a towel around his shoulders, this beloved head with its hair, curly or straight, thick or fine, and as you begin you try hard not to hurt him inadvertently, you concentrate intently on keeping the hair the same length in the right places, you cut the hair in the short style favoured by the majority of men in the Western world.  For about half an hour, you work on this head, you cut carefully above the delicate ears, you compensate for crowns and hair growing in strange directions, you notice scars, you neaten the hairline at the top of the neck, you get to observe a head at 360°, you note similarities and differences, you take advice from onlookers, or not.  And then, finally, there is a circle of hair on the floor, and a new person who stands up and is suddenly much taller than you, who emerges from his towel, all clean and fresh-faced and beautiful!