This old tree, this kowhai, almost certainly pre-dates European settlement. Its blooming is sparse compared to what we are used to seeing in parks and gardens. Tucked in at the foot of the river flood embankment I'm puzzled that it survived all those men with wheelbarrows and drays full of shingle. It feels as though someone spoke for it: that maybe its presence had value; that someone remembered its flowering as a sign that here was a good fording spot or the mountain snows were melting. It feels as though it was a Tāonga. Now hardly any of its seed survives the lemon tree borer's depradations. Most seeds are full of frass. Today the flowers seemed to sparkle in the sunlight - treasure indeed.