Palm Tree Reflections
I’ve spent many moments in between work watching and observing the cluster of palm trees that grow outside my home office. Who knew that I would grow to be fond of them?
When the circuit breaker started in Singapore, many home offices sprouted all over the island. In our home, we converted our storage room into a study, so that my husband and I could work in a more conducive environment. (The ability to lock the kids out of the room exponentially increased productivity.)
I chose to occupy the table facing the window, so that when I conduct trainings, the sunlight would provide better lighting. Just outside of the window, a cluster of palm trees grew. Unremarkable and common in appearance, I didn’t pay it much heed. However, over time, once the madness of working from home settled into a steady rhythm, I had time to observe the trees outside. Turns out the trees had more to offer than just aesthetics.
One morning, I discovered that there were long yellow twigs sticking out of the trunk of the tree. Like a Rastafarian hair, only stiffer in appearance. And over a few days, this frond started sprouting tiny bumps all over it. Ah… the buds of flowers. In a few days, the entire twiggy structure was covered with the soft feathery features of tiny blossoms. The palm tree was ready for mating.
And thus came Nature’s gardeners by the swarm. First a scout would fleet from one twig to another, sussing out the bounty ahead, and when he came back the next time round, he brought with him his entire brood of pollinators.
For a period of time, I had the chance to witness these bees work, tirelessly. You see, these bees, they don’t seem to know the meaning of quitting or giving up. When the estate management team came by with their arsenal of fog, to rid the area of mosquitoes, I thought, ‘That’s it, these bees are done for. They will be killed by the fogging!’
But lo and behold, they seemed impervious to it. Even when that frond of flowers was covered with fog, they clung on to their flowers tightly and continued to collect pollen and nectar. Fascinating. Amazing. Also, when it rained, these bees were chased away for a moment, but the moment the rain stopped, they came right back! Such tenacity!
Soon, after the pollination, the petals dropped off, and in a few weeks’ time, little palm dates started growing. At first, they were unnoticeable, but with nature’s watering and sunshine, these tiny nubs grew steadily into dates the size of olives.
One afternoon, while attending yet another online meeting and trying to stave off ZOOM fatigue, my eyes wandered to the dates on the tree outside and a sudden flutter of wings startled me. Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like this palm tree is popular with another group of visitors, now that it is in its fruiting stage. A local bird has started to visit it. With its striking yellow chest and crest, and solid black outline along the wings, I was entranced. It felt like I was in a Nat Geo documentary, watching nature in all of its glory and beauty.
Then one day, the very same Nature snapped me out of this quiet enjoyment. The landscape gardener came. And with a few snips here and there, the palm fruit frond was cut off the branch and fell to the ground. As I witnessed this event unfold before my eyes, I felt a rush of emotion and confusion.
What did the tree ever do to you?!?
Why did you have to cut off the fruits?
What are the birds going to eat now? Oh, poor birds!!!
Why didn’t I stop him? I could have yelled at him!
Yet, oddly, somehow, there was Another inside of me, willing myself to observe this whole scene in the most impassioned of ways. That voice was telling me, “Esther, this is life. And it’s just a plant. Perspective, please.” I hate that voice. It’s the no nonsense, logical, heartless voice of numbers, logic and steel. It even has a smell — disinfectants and hospital corridors.
Oh how I grieved for that palm tree and the lives of the animals that depended on it for sustenance!
Funny, I almost forgot that I was a carnivore myself…
And even more hilarious was it for me to realise that such is the extent of my attachment to nostalgia and the sentimental.
I smell disinfectant lingering in the air…
A few weeks later, I discovered the reason for the chopping of those palm branches and fronds. It was to prevent the puddling of water in the branches, so that the mosquitoes would not have a place to breed. Dengue cases have been on the rise. A case of necessary evil indeed.
There’s a happy end to this rambling reflection. The other day, I realised that the gardener didn’t chop off all of the palm fronds with fruits. There were a few palm trees with fronds far too high for him to reach, and those dates have been growing happily, undisturbed. That’s nice.
Looks like I grieved for nothing. Life!
