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Flame Trees: From Fire to Rain
A sign of the monsoon
The flame trees will blind the weary driver
And there’s nothing else could set fire to this town.
Cold Chisel, Flame Trees, 1984
The monsoon is on its way. In a few more weeks, the north-westerlies will sweep down from South East Asia, bringing with them summer rain. Until then, we sprawl under ceiling fans, scrutinise weather maps, and become experts in the Madden-Julian Oscillation and other meteorological arcana. Sometimes we lay bets on the timing of the first tropical cyclone of the season. (The first to form in Australian waters will be called TC Paddy.) But all the time, we look for that band of swirling storms from the Indian Ocean to the Coral Sea.
We wait, while Flame Trees (Brachychiton acerifolius, Malvaceae) do not hesitate. In the middle of the year, they shed their leaves to conserve water. They were at their least lovely during the dry season, their branches naked except for a few persistent seed pods. But in anticipation of the monsoon, those branches are covered in scarlet flowers — like beacons heralding the coming rain. Later, when the flowers fall, the leaves emerge, shining green.
