The Bush Jumper 1998

“This is a bushland jumper, Mitti. Yellow for wattle blossom, green for gum leaves, pink for boronia flowers and blue for summer skies.”

Mitti stared at the striped sleeve. It was horrible! But she couldn’t tell her mum that, not when she had knitted and knitted all day long.

“Thank you, Mum,” Mitti said.

Mitti’s awkward pose on the footstool shows her mixed feelings for the garment Koala is proferring. Ali Beck illustrates clearly that the jumper, which Mitti had requested to be all ‘yellowy-yellow’ is too large for her : its size more suited to a wombat, receives her small shadow like an omen. The hated sleeve is obviously much too long.

Marsupials sitting on furniture never really convinces, but the buttoned flannel flowers on the arms of the chair demonstrate that Koala not afraid of using any needle for decoration.  The ‘southern skies’ blue vase full of native flowers are a perfect match for the colours of the odd sleeve, with the kangaroo paw arching in sympathy to meet Mitti’s dejection. The whole picture floats in an interior left blank for the reader’s imagination, and so that Mitti’s feelings are front and centre.

Jean Chapman was a prolific writer for children. As a scriptwriter for Kindergarten of the Air, she wrote simple stories that were developmentally perfect fit for the under 5s. Many of these were published in the 1970s in collections like Tell Me a Tale, joyously illustrated by Deborah and Kilmeny Niland. I used them as rich material for the early years of preschool storytime progamming, and we read them together as a family.

To clothe or not to clothe bush animals is a dilemma for quite a few spinners of Australian yarns. By making Mitti this jumper, what does Koala herself hope to achieve? Perhaps redemption for the weird swimming-costume/butcher-apron that she herself wears.  (Mitti’s bush playmates wear no clothing, but if they did, there would be no plot.) In the best tradition of stories for the 3-5 year old, self-determination meets potential disaster, which is narrowly averted. Another of Koala’s housekeeping competencies restores things to their natural order, without reproach, and the jumper’s sleeve becomes ‘zingy-zing zing!’

For my readers outside of Oz, here’s some fun discussion about the nomenclature of woollen garments.

Ms May says that she loved returning to this book again and again. She was the victim of an enthusiastic needle-wielding mother herself.

My garment sewing skills were basic. I did a Kwik Sew course in the 1980s, fired up the overlocker, and I loved experimenting with the vibrant children’s prints on offer at Aherns department store in Rockingham.

Like Koala, I made do with whatever ribbing I had to hand to finish garments – if challenged, I could say that it was meant to be “contrasting” but MM always knew the truth. Here she is, gamely smiling her way to kindergarten in 1998, and dreaming of store-bought school uniforms.

It wasn’t my first offence. I was a knitter from childhood, and saved this pattern from the English Woman’s Weekly for years before Big Bob was even thought of.  Here he is, not mentioning the colour change of the neckline and cuffs.

This wonderful picture book spoke to us all in its own way.