Of late, my mind has been filled with images of some lovely things.

Living, breathing and very green things — a bunch of creatures completely at ease with nature. 

I am not thinking of those fake Christmas trees that light up our streets, malls, offices and homes in the festive season, but the real, raw and fresh ones which have their roots sunken in our homeland.

They — these lovely Trees — line our roads and pathways like loyal guards, come rain or shine, every ordinary day. 

I find myself particularly fascinated by the Rain Tree, also known by its scientific name of “samanea saman“. The Rain Tree is believed to be native to places as far flung as South and Central America, but has been extensively cultivated and somewhat naturalised in the Pacific regions and other tropical countries like Singapore.

I always make it a point to pause in my steps, to look up to the sky above me.

The almost symmetrical canopy of the Rain Tree intrigues me. Her large girth wraps around like an over sized brown donut ring. The haphazardness in the pattern of her branch community is by itself extremely captivating. Her branches sprout upward, diagonally and even laterally into an unpredictable green network of small leaves. 

The leaves fold and droop systematically, on a grey rainy day — to allow rain to fall through to moisten the ground below her, or at the end of a work day — much like any of us. It is not by coincidence that the Rain Tree is known as “Pukul Lima” in Malay, which means the “Five o’clock tree”.

The origin and derivation of the “Rain Tree” name makes this tree all the more enchanting. The tree also exudes a magical feel that is quintessentially charming. On some days with unusual hues of atmospheric light and air particles, the early morning or evening sunlight that bears through the Rain Tree canopy and branches and onto the fungi strewn on its bark, gives rise to a fairytale-like experience.

I remember once, many years ago, cruising along the long, undulating and winding stretch of Upper Thomson Road, when that ‘moment’ arrived and I felt like Alice travelling through a tropical wonderland. I was spell bound yet soothed by the golden light reflected by the orange-coloured species of the fungous family that had found their home on the barks of the Rain Tree. It was as if an extraterrestrial light was directed upon my path, lighting the way for me to a world of solace, hope, peace and comfort. It was surreal.

The Rain Tree, itself intolerant of shade, nevertheless indulges us with her umbrella canopy and provides in her quiet demeanour, fresh air and cool shade, whenever and wherever we emerge from air-conditioned shafts. When her fruit ripens, the black, curved and lumpy pods explode in mid-air, as if celebrating rebirth. 

She wears her jewelled head gear in a convex embrace towards the sky, and struts off draped in her green, green dress, sequined midway at the bust or waist, in fern flair and wild orchids. Her strong intervening roots often make their mark and break out of the tarmac in and around our open air car parks.

After the descent of some tropical rain that befalls not infrequently, the brown of the Rain Tree bark would be accentuated into a darker tone of blackish-brown. In a sleepy warm afternoon, she would sometimes be self-awakened by the flamboyance of her pink flowering blooms, and tickled by stamens that drop from her canopy crown like rain.

The Rain Tree is deeply alluring to admirers like me, in ways similar to how sweet-loving insects are drawn to her drizzles of nectar sap that sometimes fall from her body like rain. Not many would know that these are but one of the few phenomena to which the name of the Rain Tree has been attributed.

I was most delighted to know that the National Parks Board (NParks) maintains a Heritage Tree Register on its website. The Rain Tree is unequivocally one of such amazing Heritage Trees (the last time I checked the register, there were 13 individual Rain Trees marked on this unique register). A few impressive ones which I have spotted include those around the Everton estate and the Singapore Botanic Gardens.

The Rain Tree is indeed a living green gift to our city state, spanning pretty across our garden island. 

Inspired by the Rain Tree (and driven by the urge to reduce my own carbon foot print on my own initiative since the closure of the ‘Hopenhagen’ summit), I plan to register (and pay) to participate in the NParks’ regular Tree Planting programme.

I would happily plant a sapling or two with my family. I imagine that the neighbourhood park in which we may adopt to plant the young saplings, would never quite feel or look the same again — for something symbolic of our family would have been planted and be growing in its midst.

I would want to return regularly to visit, to feel the faint grooves in their young bark skin deepening, to share with them our human secrets, and see for ourselves how they are adapting and growing.

I find it an immensely comforting thought that the Trees would grow in tandem and in strength with my 2 young boys — as if the tree spirits would look upon them, in a way beyond the mortal ambit and powers of the human watch tower.

I imagine my sons’ lanky bodies seeking comfort and shade from their Trees in their teenage years, and many years later, bringing their own children to play or read under their shade. It is my wish too that my husband and I would age gracefully with these green lovely things.

Now think: have you planted your Tree or engaged in Some Lovely Things today?