There is a pervading romanticism to a flowering tree. All the more if your hospital window looks out to one.
In the weeks past that I have been in a hospital, the Cassia (Kanikonna) outside my window has been a feast for the eyes. A shock of resplendent yellow – the plume of flowers à la bouffant – and my mornings made purposeful by the sheer sight, the hangover of sleep taking a scram.
It did remind me of O.Henry’s short story – The Last Leaf, though not entirely in the poignant way. More of a surprise – these trees seldom do flower in November.
The Cassia lent colour to a time otherwise morose, healing the torment of enforced seclusion, taking the edge off the bitter potions and the stares of unfamiliar people.