Walking the names of the bush
Learning the names of plant species growing in my local patch of banksia woodland, and how it's creating more connection for me.
Life has been full to the brim these past months and so I have been slow with my writings... slow but not stopped. A friend challenged me when I criticised myself for being so slow about creating things, ‘slow compared to what?’ he asked. Since then I have stopped seeing my pace as a negative thing, but as a natural thing. All that to say: these Dirt Notes might come out with plenty of space between, but they’re coming. It takes time to brew things, and I’m okay with that. Thanks for being here and for arriving in your own pace too.
There’s a patch of banksia woodland in the suburb I’m living in and it’s kind of a saving grace for me. I walk or run down to the bush and then stroll slowly through, noticing what’s growing, what’s flowering, what’s dying, what animals are making their marks.
I have a desire to speak to the plants like I used to when I was a child. Back then the trees were my friends. I interacted with them relationally, and now as an adult I can see the wisdom in this. As I deepen my personal relationship with this patch of bush I begin to love it more and more. I want to protect it, make sure it stays wild and free.
Learning to identify plants by name helps me understand this specific section of bush better. I’m sure the plants don’t mind if I name them or not, but the naming is more for me. It helps me speak to them from a place of understanding. It’s an act of respect, an offer to grow closer together.
The naming is just the doorway into deeper knowledge of the plant: where it grows, what conditions it likes, what other plants it’s related to, what plants it likes to grow alongside, when it flowers, what its seeds look like, who depends on the plant to survive.
Of course there can be several names for the same plant, depending on who’s speaking. The different names themselves open up unique avenues of learning about the plant.
For example, the Indigenous name can teach us about plant uses or about the spiritual significance of certain plants, inviting us into different ways of thinking about the bush and our connection to it.
The scientific name of a plant can help us understand its genetic relationships, its functions within the ecosystem or its physical properties. And the common names such as woolly bush or spearwood tell us something of what it’s like to experience the plant: perhaps its texture or its smell or the hardness of its wood.
All names show us how others have viewed the plant before, giving us a way to consider the plant from someone else’s perspective. Maybe it would be fun to make up our own names for plants sometimes before looking up the more widely accepted names.
Enough talk for now… let’s walk the names of my local bushland together.
We’ll start with the trees that are integral to the ecosystem.
What pulled me to this bushland in the first place were the banksia trees because I have a hungry eye for their flowers. We have three types of banksia trees here. Banksia menziesii, also known as firewood banksia or Kaal mangatj, was the first banksia I fell in love with. It’s still a favourite for its lovely leaf shape and pinky-orange flowers.
Banksia attenuata is a real eye-catcher when it’s flowering. Someone thought the tall flower spikes looked like a candle, so the tree is still commonly called candlestick banksia.
Banksia ilicifolia or holly-leaved banksia is a cute banksia with short leaves. I like its fiery little flowers which can be red, orange, yellow or cream.
Then we have the sheoaks (Casuarina) and the paperbarks (Melaleuca). So far I’ve only been able to identify these by their genus, not the specific species. I love the thick layer of dead leaves the sheoaks pile up on the forest floor.
The paperbarks are nearly unmatched for their incredible texture. The ones in my bushland like to grow at the wet and muddy edge of the swamp.
Unmistakable during November and December, the Moodjar or WA Christmas Tree (Nyutsia floribunda) is actually a semi-parasitic tree that gathers nutrients for itself from the roots of other plants.
The Balga or grass trees (Xanthorrhoea preissii) are iconic. I love them best when their huge flower spikes are blooming. I’ve written a little more about the Balga and the Moodjar on my post Kambarang Things.
Now we get into the shrub layer. Soft enough to cuddle up to, I can’t keep my hands off any woolly bush (Adenanthos cygnorum) I pass.
Although I’ve seen spearwood everywhere in my area for a long time, I only recently learned its name. I filed its more difficult scientific name (Kunzea glabrescens) away in my mind by repeating it rhythmically under my breath as I walked through the bushland.
Prickly Moses is a fun name, but the plant is a little stand-offish, preferring to be looked at rather than touched. At this time of the year it’s all green, but wait for its golden puffs during winter and early spring and it becomes obvious that Prickly Moses or Acacia pulchella is indeed part of the acacia or wattle genus.
And to end this little stroll through my bushland, I’ll leave you with the most Dr Seuss of all the plants: pineapple bush aka Dasypogon bromeliifolius. It’s a joy to see when flowering, and gives me the idea that different plants have different personalities.
Thanks for the company, until next time.
Melody
All photographs by me, 2024.
I also walk my local woodland, observing the indigenous plants and how they change throughout the year. Learning more about the plants that live where I do has brought me a deepened connection to place. I always feel restored and refilled whenever I get the chance to be amongst these wonderful neighbours, the birds and the trees 💚
That was delightful walking with you through the bushland, Melody. I felt like I was being introduced to very dear friends, some whom I recognised but many I was meeting for the first time. Hopefully I'll remember some of their interesting names. Thank you for sharing that beautiful experience.