When the plant on the front deck grew so large that it threatened to split apart the pot in which it stood, we went looking for a new plant.
We chose a native Australian wattle, a tiny sapling in a small plastic tub, which we assumed would bloom, in time, like the ubiquitous Golden Wattle.
But our plant is a different species – an Acacia drummondii – whose soft, extended flowers are the shape and size of fusilli pasta.
We named our wattle, Wally. He was nothing more than three thin branches, rising from a tiny mass of tangled roots and dirt.
He looked lost in the pot, those first few months, like a scrawny kid in an oversized coat. He barely grew or flowered throughout his first Spring season.
Now Wally has arisen in a sudden burst of growth, rocketing towards the sun in a blaze of yellow flower.
He shimmers and sways to the slightest breeze; you’d swear that he is laughing.
A living thing. An optimist. Wally is a beauty.
