On this slightly dull morning, following some wonderful rain yesterday and overnight, I’m sitting in my favourite chair, warm coffee to hand, watching sunlight trying desperately to creep across my verandah boards. Feeble efforts against gathering storm clouds, ponderously gliding above, making for shifting shadows and shapes.

There is a Jacaranda tree just outside the window. For all the years we have lived here, it has only flowered once. Every year I think we will take it out and replace it with something pretty, maybe another Magnolia? But every year I feel sorry for the poor struggling plant, and I feed it, water it and will it to grow and flower next year. There is life, there is hope I think to myself. Will it flower next year or will I chop it down?