Those yellow flowers have me smiling

 Both biologists and naturalists will appreciate that the paloverde is blooming. I smile whenever I see the beautiful yellow flowers, partly because they once got the better of me.

The scientific name of this tree or shrub is Parkinsonia aculeate. It’s in the legume family. In my neighborhood, I hear more people speak of paloverde (green wood) than retama. 

The remarkable thing about the plant is how green the branches are. My textbook says it’s a tropical, and we’re on the northern edge of its range. The leaves look like little pine needles. If the summer is hot and dry — and when is it not? —the leaflets fall off, and those bright green stems and trunk do the photosynthetic work that leaves usually do.

But I was fooled by those flowers. Each has five petals. One of the five has a honey gland at its base. The gland turns red or maroon as it matures.

The first time I saw a red spot on a bright yellow petal I was sure it was a mirid, a common leaf bug. Then I noticed that almost every flower had a bug on it. And then, as I marveled at the infestation, I discovered that the cause of my amazement was my own ignorance.

Someone told me the other day that young people are better innovators because of their ignorance — they don’t know from experience that some things are allegedly impossible and so they try.

That’s the salve I put on my wounded ego. If ignorance is as asset, I can still compete with the 20-year-olds.