The smell of eucalyptus trees, especially in the rain, and often mixed with burning, seeped into every cell, every day, when living in our mountain school in South India. As sorrow and longing were present as well, in missing parents and home, this smell conjured reflex tears in the throat and palpitating heartbeats.
This chapter came to an abrupt halt in the mid 60’s when we returned to the US, and with it all emotional memory of eucy trees…there were none in sight on the east coast.
Decades later, my younger daughter was exploring California colleges and while she was in a meeting, I sat on a bench under a tree, closed my eyes and uh oh. WHAT was that? That aroma. I opened my eyes and immediately spied the oh so familiar crescent shaped leaves sprinkled about with little acorn-ish looking nuts in between. WHERE was I????? I picked up one leaf and one nut…broke the leaf in half and sniffed, scratched the nut and sniffed, and I looked up.
There she was. Gorgeous, looming, graceful, and very there.
Another east coast decade passed and then I moved to California, with two incredibly magnificent eucalyptus trees at the gateway to my ocean view.
They stand there, tall, watching the sea, blowing in the wind, their bark peels and heals, their leaves shimmer and shift with the seasons.
Two queen eucalyptus trees, my refuge, my inspiration, my teachers.
To Life!