Whenever I am at the Botanical Gardens, I cannot pass by the succulent garden without popping in. They are family, a place I have walked with new lovers, old friends, my place of solace, meeting and reflection, to soak in the extra terrestrial landscape, to be transported. Each cacti takes it in turn to impress. A colour burst, the throws of death, newborns slow growth, the families get bigger and spread through the red gravel. Birds visit, death defying swoops through the needles and thorns. Giant Orb spiders build labyrinths of silk, eight dimensions of entrapment. The place has grown with me, it doesn’t really change, just feels more experienced in its surroundings. Some look dry, large exposed roots, holes and barnacles, it is out of time, a comfort that ages with me.
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