Ode to the Acacia

Acacia blossoms
fall silently onto earth
scent lost on the breeze

Joyous sounds of bumbles
buzzing amongst tree tops
delights the listener

Fragrance of honey
inhaling drifts on the wind
enlivens the senses

Beyond a doubt my favourite tree is the Acacia or Black Locust but I prefer Acacia. It grows well here surviving summers’ heat and drought as well as the bitter cold of winter, never failing to spring forth. I know of groves nearing 200 years old standing strong, guarding their homes. Easily reaching 100’ in height they grow straight with a hardiness of soul that rivals the mighty oak. It’s the last to leaf in spring and last to loose those fragile fronds in autumn.

Shall we discuss their blossoms? O my heaven, I yearn for their fragrance constantly watching my own for a hint of openness. Similar to wisteria, their huge clusters cascade in June, enveloping the neighbourhood with their sweet fragrance. The creamy coloured blossoms are nectar to bumbles much like a fine Aussie chardonnay pour moi. The bumbles swarm about creating a delightful drone of busy wee bees. Could life be richer?

I love its growth, almost limbless til they reach heaven and then their branches spread overhead creating a bower, sheltering earth below. That is its goal, its life, to give joy to others while asking nothing in return, just to be let be and grow on. Acacia is strength and beautiful in its own way, and always will be. If I had been blessed with a daughter she would be Acacia and I would forever smile knowing she was named so true.