I did not realize that when I worked with Ohia, metrosiderous polymorpha that summer in Hawaii it would become a lifelong friend. The genus greets me in the most surprising places. When I arrived in Wellington, yet again in a new place, wandering on its foreign shore, there blossuming happily in the sun was a familiar face.

And then when I pilgrimage to see a Rata tree in the Te Ure Were country, to it turns out the towering ancient epiphyte was another relative of Ohia.

Most recently, I returned from scoping out the kite scene at Pantai Cinta Berahi ("Beach of Passionate Love") in Kelantan. Too risque for present governance, it's been changed to Pantai Cahaya Bulan ("Moonrise Beach"), however locals still refer to it by its former name or simply PCB. My friend chucked my Aussie canvas sunhat on a random bush to rinse off from his swim. When I went to collect the hat, I was delighted to recognize the unmistakable flowers of the Metrosiderous.

There is an immeasurable joy in recognizing trees and plants on my journey: donkey face anthuriums, mullen in its non invasive enviro, etc. These plants are anchors of familiarity in an otherwise foreign place and in a sense have become my international family. Despite the usefulness of scientific name, I find using the local name more rewarding. Sometimes the local name is more telling of the plants relationship to the people of the present day or past, and in this way feels more informative and meaningful. Othertimes, they are just playfully descriptive, and using that name feels more personal.

All this to wonder for me anyhow, whether I return to focus on plants after kites?

I can only speculate.

I long to know plants, their names, uses, and stories from the perspective of the indigenous.