The Corkwood

The corkwood outside my classroom is blossoming. I didn’t know it was a corkwood, or notice when the first signs of its blossoms appeared over a month ago.  The locals did – well, people who have been around the area longer than I have, which is almost everybody.  The flowers are beautiful in the way so many things here are beautiful, in a delightfully understated way – not because they demand to be noticed, but purely for their intrinsic beauty.  

The bees were buzzing around the flowers this morning and two of my students, who are mature ladies from the Arnhem area, were discussing the flowers, the bees and wondering where they could poke a stick to get some honey.  Strangely, I had not asked myself the same question.  My mind doesn’t automatically consider the food benefit of the local flora.  The ladies are not familiar with the corkwood, but they are finely tuned to the environment and all that is happening in it.

I just remembered last summer when some of the young men were here for their classes and a large lizard had attracted their attention.  Had I not come along when I did, the lizard may well have ended up the evening entrée.  They, too, see opportunities beyond my experience. 

When I go on walks with my friends, they notice the tiniest of flowers, and can name each variety we pass.  My landlady is a keen gardener and has designed and planted the delightful backyard where I live - an arid garden, full of plants of the region, some self-sown.  The rain several weeks ago, followed by the unseasonably warm weather, has encouraged the previously low growing plants to reach for the sky.  There’s something very Impressionistic about it – an arid Monet’s garden.  It’s an absolute picture every time I walk out my door.