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SOCIETY
Bonsai are teeny-tiny. But for some New Zealanders, they have a way of taking over
At the Hutt Valley Tramping Club a couple of dozen people sit around a table, tiny trees and cups of tea plopped before them. The cedar smell is heavenly. “Like Christmas and sweat,” somebody says. Garth Lippitt, the secretary of Wellington’s bonsai club, is arranging pines into a tiny grove, dithering over the composition; a group gathers to hmm-haw at it. A woman shares a technique with the newbie beside her, gently wiring copper around branches to shape them, trees and humans entwined. Bonsai, perhaps more than any other form of gardening, is deeply collaborative—each plant’s history is held in the subtleties of its form, in murmurs of shapes and hollows. One man doesn’t want his name used, but is pleased to introduce me to his hawthorn, tracing its lineage with his finger. A crook here, a curve there. “This bonsai was cared for by a Korean guy for 20 years, then an Aussie who follows the Japanese style of sweeping movements as opposed to angular,” he explains. “It’s collective art.” Keep reading...
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