Perceived notions have a way of crystallising into confirmed beliefs if pondered long enough.

The people of Mimoa, gathered in their peculiar corner of Gloriosa, surrounded by things which seemed familiar yet were completely new, learnt to appreciate their own ideas with greater firmness so that what might once have been a vague perception became reality.

Their fondness for flowers manifested as decorative necessities, in the villages, their homes and as part of personal adornment. Everywhere the girls went, whoever they met, sported some great scarlet or purple blossom in their hair, even when they themselves wore work suits or uniforms as part of day to day duties. It was a symbol of life and what more appropriate place to appear thus than in the florid land of Gloriosa.

This was abundantly obvious when Sophelia and her lady's maid, Victoria and the twins, with Ansibby guiding them, all disembarked from the flitter that had taken them across several subdued storm barriers thanks to the proximity of the huge moon Foam, or Serenity as it was more widely known. A welcoming party awaited them at Halatea and there was a bit of singing, a little dancing, and a lot of flower throwing. Someone even tossed in a rose bush, roots and all, such was the enthusiastic greeting that the Mimoa people afforded their returning daughter and her friends.

"We have tried our best to keep certain traditions alive, but memory is fickle and fragile," Ansibby explained to her visitors. "However, a welcome such as this will live long in the hearts of all."

"And stain clothes a little," Midgy grumbled as she brushed off dirt from her jacket, dirt that had come with the rose bush.

They were soon conveyed in carts along the winding roads through the mountains of the south, past parched fields that were a remarkable contrast to the lush greenness that awaited them in the high wet valleys of Mimoa Heatua, the province Ansibby's people had settled in after their ancient migration.

Villages clung to the sides of mountains like desperate climbers and the narrow paths crisscrossed amid almost jungle thick vegetation so that everyone was thoroughly lost by the time a modest grassy square was reached and Ansibby declared they were there, wherever there was. It had been a dizzy experience and the twins fell out of their cart right at the feet of the rulers of Mimoa who awaited their arrival.

There were three of them, representing the three main family groups. One was tall and thin and prone to nodding a lot so that his great purple mimsy blossom threatened to poke people in the eye. He was of the Anugoa Family. The Falofa representative was shorter but made up for this with cheery rotundity. He was a laugher and a hugger so that Midgy positively squeaked when he greeted her mirthfully as if she had one of those devices inside her that made toys let you know they were in distress. The third, a chief of the most ancient of the families and known as the Mimava, had only one eye and the sight of the twins caused him undue confusion. Shaking hands was his thing and Divvy and Fizzy kept him in a tangle quite mercilessly for a while. He just could not go cross-eyed if he tried, which he did. And failed.

When these introductions were over the three men indicated where three chairs had been placed in a row as if they were thrones and mats laid before them for their distinguished visitors. Others of the Mimoa tribe ranged themselves either side of the triple throne as a suitable audience to this international get together.

The Plazenby girls nestled upon reed cushions but Midgy chose to stand, hiding discreetly behind her parasol as some of the young menfolk squinted at her with undue curiosity. The three leaders however were not so graceful in the preparations for the audience. It was as if a signal had been given and the three then raced to the chairs.

One was a comfy armchair, another a wicker easy chair and the third a rather plain stool devoid even of a cushion. The men scrambled and fought for the armchair until Orfo Falofa managed to insert his bulk into its seat and that contest was as good as over. The one-eyed Mimava chief was clever however, for having anticipated the way things were going he pulled out of the contest early, ducked under the tall man as he tried to lever his heavier opponent out of the armchair and installed himself in the easy chair next to it. Realising his strategic error, Hilai Anugoa howled disappointment and perched himself gingerly on the remaining stool. With legs so long his knees were almost above his chin and he faced the visiting girls, disappointment writ large upon his elongated countenance.

Once this important game of thrones was settled among the contending families with nothing else to show for it but comfort or otherwise, there was a clap of hands and sumptuous refreshments were provided. These consisted mainly of fresh fruit and drinks from gourds that appeared to be suspiciously or miraculously bubbly, depending on one's depth of faith. Speeches were made during the meal and everyone lounged at their ease.

"Now to show you something of our heritage," Ansibby said, bowing to the tribal leaders at the end of the repast, who began eyeing each other suspiciously before deciding to make a concerted effort to rise as one from their thrones with jealously guarded equality.

Within a quaint long house, upon an upper tier at the back, a number of relics of ancient times were displayed. Pieces of barkwood inscribed with inscrutable scratchings jostled with fossilised birds' eggs painted in gaudy colours, a smiley face being a popular design. Swinging from dark rafters were scary masks with human hair attached badly in need of a good combing, and nestled in cosy corners lay bundles of dry grasses tied in painful knots that symbolised spiritual presences. They had however been long absent from the hearts of those who cared for them as even the names of these effigies were forgotten. Attempts to revive lost knowledge could be a little unimaginative at times.

"We call this one Limpy," Ansibby explained on holding up a tangle of fibres loosely conveying the impression of a one legged man, if held at a certain angle. "An elder scribe he was thought to be, though illiterate so the legends say and songs suggest. Rhyme was the medium of memory back then."

"We just post stuff on-grid nowadays," one of the leaders sniffed.

"And this," said the girl as she reached up into the roof space and brought down an impressive carved piece of wood, "is our most ancient and revered Battle Spoon."

It was eight feet long, chiefly consisting of a straight smooth pole. At one end was a modest decorative carving resembling flower buds in cluster. At the other was a large curved swelling, hollowed out. It was clearly old, the wood dark as chestnut shells and the grain cracked and dry.

"I so want to see the bowl of ice cream that spoon belongs to," Fizzy Massking said with a lick of the lips.

Midgy stepped forward.

"You call that a spoon? Looks more like a-"

"What's the strange carving on the inner side?" Victoria interrupted the lady's maid.

Ansibby turned the relic over and revealed the sketchy image upon the deep-grained wood. It looked like a tree clustered with impossibly circular fruit.

"That is the Tree of Life," she said. "Our ancestors were so fond of it they often pictured it on all sorts of things. The fruit you see depicted upon it was said to prolong life, or so our elders insist, though much about its origin and significance, like so much else, has been lost to us," and she sighed.

"It is known also as the Bubble Tree," an elder lady said, guardian of the relics of her people.

"Why's that then?" Sophelia indulgently asked.

"The fruit, um, look like bubbles, er, don't you think?" Her tourist speech needed some polishing still, but then they did not get many visitors to the lush valleys of Mimoa Heatua.

"Melon Tree!" Divvy squealed to help out.

"Balloon Tree!" Fizzy piped up in support.

"Idola Tree!" quipped Midgy, less than impressed with all this vagueness. Her Home Winkel of Deepwold was an ancient place too where matters were much more sensibly organised. Trees had their uses, no doubt, but hardly as the centre of a half-forgotten culture, especially a ridiculous thing like that depicted in childish scrawls on wood and which had no equivalent among the arboreal species of Winkel World as far as she was aware.

"Now there's a funny saying," Ansibby laughed, looking at her visitors a moment, the twins in particular. She placed the great spoon back upon its stand and led everyone out onto the porch of the long house, shaded from the sun by thick thatch. "If you follow us, we'll show you our Bubble Tree, our wonderful Tree of Life, and you can judge for yourself how best to name it."

This speech surprised Midgy not a little. She saw others in the village wielding more recently carved wooden spoons proudly, and the clack, clack sound of a duel between two antagonists at practice made her shake her head in doubtful thoughts on this strange, disjointed culture her charge had dragged her into.

"Should I tell the poor fools, or would they be mortified?" she said to herself. "I have eyes born in a different land, eyes that see things these children of the groves and forests cannot for they simply will not."

As she pondered on such weighty matters she did not see a root sticking out of the ground and tripped over it.