Flora Field Notes #9: Crown flower/ Giant milkweed

  • Name: Crown flower/ Giant milkweed
  • Local name: Kapal-kapal (Tagalog)
  • Scientific name: Calotropis gigantea
  • Native to the Philippines
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photo from Google images

Interesting Facts

  • Grows well even in dry coastal zones, overgrazed lands, and nutrient-poor soil, making it well-suited in Philippine climate.
  • Blooms almost all-year round.
  • Attracts butterflies, bees, and birds, serving as a food plant for caterpillars. In the Philippines, crown flower shrubs are used as host plants for native butterfly species in butterfly gardens.
  • Its plant latex contains cardiac glycosides, making it poisonous. In historical recordings in Asia, the plant latex has been used as poison in arrows. It also is a known irritant for the skin and eyes.
  • In Hawaii and India, the flower is linked to royalty and is made as leis. In the Philippines, Filipinos sometimes use the blooms as floral offerings because of their durable, waxy beauty.
  • The plant yields a durable bast fiber used for making ropes, carpets, and fishing nets.
  • The plant seed floss resembles kapok or the silk-cotton tree. Its mature seed pods contain silky floss used for stuffing and packaging.
  • Almost all of its parts are poisonous when ingested, however, local healers take advantage of its potency and use all of its parts with caution in using them for traditional remedies.

Sightings & Stories

I spotted this flower while walking around the Cagsawa Ruins in Albay. What stopped me in my tracks was a lilac star with a tiny yellow star for a belly button laying on a white, five-petaled bed. It looked unique because of its intricate design. The endpoints of the lilac stars perfectly fit the spaces between the petals beneath it. Among the cluster, there were only two flowers that had this design.

The stems were towering and the leaves spread broad and protective. The other flowers were still buds with thin purple stripes against waxy white covers. The others had unfurled and looked like scepters with beige skirts flowing below and around lavender crowns, each crown topped with its own share of a tiny golden star.

This moment was the only time and place I saw this flower. I was so intrigued by this flower’s design and geometry so that days later I would still keep zooming into my photo to see its design better.

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Field Notes

Unfortunately, I was not able to observe this flower up close. I left with no notes of its scent or its texture from touch. A good thing, though now knowing that this flower is poisonous. However, I will reserve note spaces for the next time I will see this flower. I would want to observe it better and take more photos of its design.

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This post is part of a mini project called Flora Field Notes: notes and observations on Philippine flora.

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This post also joins Terri Webster Schrandt’s The Flower Hour.

Anger to Ashes

Create in me a pure heart, O God,
    and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
~ Psalm 51:10 (NIV)

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You burned my anger to ashes.
You renewed my spirit and softened my heart.
You are reshaping me by Your gentle grace.

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Early this year, God planted a little dream in my heart. For years I have been wanting to work on a project that I kept delaying. It demanded more work and more commitment than I was willing to give. But this year, something changed. God breathed inspiration for a mini project that is more doable and a little less challenging to complete. It may be small, but to me, it sounds promising. It looks like a beginning for something bigger in the future when the timing is right.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to simple devotional poetry. I now find myself gravitating towards poems that sound gentle, soft, and easy. Poems that feel like breathing little exhales from the fast-paced, cluttered, and noise-filled world.

I used to resist this style of writing. I have always leaned into writing with strong and steady voices. In poetry, Mary Oliver was my only exception. It was her particular voice and quiet reflections that inspired me to pay more attention to nature and observe the ordinary. Her voice consistently remained soft and her writing smooth and reflective.

For the past few days, I’ve been asking myself what changed in my appreciation for poetry. Simple and easy writing now sounds more profound. Gentle poems now sound more striking. Softness and tenderness penetrate deep with less force but more intensity. Sometimes I wonder whether I am becoming dull, whether I have grown lazy in thought, too comfortable to wrestle with complexity. Was I settling with ease because I can no longer handle deep and critical thinking? It is a terrifying thing to lose my capacity to think, probe questions, and formulate answers.

But this morning while on the jeepney ride to the office, the answer came to me. I realized how the Lord has been steadily burning my anger to ashes. His grace so tender, I hardly noticed what He was doing within me. In our walks and rides, our daily quiet times, and in all our conversations, He has been faithful to His work within me. I soon began to notice how the fire inside had slowly died. The flames no longer reached for my anger. Where heat used to kiss my insides has now cooled down to a comforting warmth. He has softened my hardened heart. To read through the lens of gentleness and tenderness is unfamiliar and yet it feels light and inviting.

I never understood softness and gentleness because I always thought they made me weak and breakable. But this time, I kneel at His feet in acceptance. I welcome this season even when the change is unsettling and a little painful. I trust and follow His lead. I know He has plans for me and I will let them unfold in His time. I surrender with gratitude and peace. And if I burn again, may I not burn in anger, but in love, praise, and worship only to God.

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This post format is inspired by Catherine Posey’s book “To Hear His Voice: Poem and Devotional Book.”

Flora Field Notes #8: Botong Tree/Fish Poison Tree Flower

  • Name: Sea poison tree/ Fish poison tree
  • Local name: Botong/ Bitoón
  • Scientific name: Barringtonia asiatica
  • Native to the Philippines
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Interesting Facts

  • Tree:
    • Grows on sandy beaches, mangroves, and coral-sand flats in tropical areas like the Philippines.
    • Called the fish poison tree because the tree contains toxic saponins, which can stun fish and thus is used to catch fish.
    • Its seeds can cause poisoning if not prepared properly or ingested directly.
    • Although poisonous, its seeds and roots are used in traditional medicine as cure for stomachache, rheumatism, and as worm remedy.
    • Ecologically vital in the Philippine biodiversity, playing a crucial role in coastal stabilization.
    • Part of a unique poison‑bearing but ecologically resilient species.
    • Used for coastal greening because of its ornamental flowers and shade-providing capabilities.
  • Flower:
    • The flowers bloom only at night and the blossoms fall by sunrise.
    • The flowers bloom at sunset or early evening, releasing a strong sweet fragrance that attracts pollinators, such as bats and moths.
    • The blossoms fall to the ground by sunrise, carpeting the concrete paths and shores.
    • The flowers are large and have thin and long pink-tipped stamens with yellow pollen at its ends.
    • Each raceme (flower spike) can hold up to 20 large flowers, creating the visually striking pompom look that makes this tree popular in coastal landscaping.
    • The calyx (outer bud covering) splits into two uneven parts as it opens—an unusual trait compared with most tropical flowering trees.
    • The flower doesn’t float, but its its structure develops into a box‑shaped, buoyant fruit after pollination. Its fruit can float for years, which makes the species spread across coastlines.

Sightings & Stories

I have frequently seen this flower along beaches before, but it was only while walking around Balay Buhay sa Uma Bee Farm in Sorsogon City that I started to really take notice of it. Although already fallen on the ground, they looked lovely and delicate resting on a bed of rough weeds.

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It was at Plantation Bay in Cebu when I really paused to observe this flower. I was attracted to its uniqueness—a simple-looking white flower and yet overflowing with thin, long, and graceful white strands with ends that seem to have been dipped in soft pink ink and punctuated with tiny yellow beads.

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Field Notes

While walking around one early morning at Plantation Bay, I saw this flower scattered on different beds—on the ground against weeds and leaves, on exposed tree roots, on coarse sand, and on water. Some flowers were open and some closed, but no matter where they fell to rest and lay, their beauty remained unchanged. They were consistently alluring and graceful that I wondered whether one can tell them apart from each other.

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Now learning about the botong tree flower makes me wish to see this flower in bloom while still clinging to the tree. I long to breathe in its fragrance. I wish to watch the blossoms fall gently to the ground. Do they fall all at once or is there a rhythm and flow to their descent?

Its unique nature reminds me how beauty is fleeting. To witness its blooming is a limited privilege, only possible for a brief window in time. To feel the accompanying quiet sadness of its blooming and descent is a gift—an ode to the impermanence of things, a feeling that the Japanese so beautifully capture in their concept of mono no aware.

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photo from https://themindsjournal.com/mono-no-aware-the-japanese-awareness-of-the-impermanence-of-things/

I have long wanted to write about mono no aware. I have half-formed thoughts waiting to be completed in unfinished drafts. Today, I feel grateful for the chance to briefly write about mono no aware and with a flower fitting to catch the weight of that reflection.

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This post is part of a mini project called Flora Field Notes: notes and observations on Philippine flora.

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This post also joins Terri Webster Schrandt’s The Flower Hour.

Flora Field Notes #7: Rain Lily

  • Name: Rain lily/ Fairy lily/ Typhoon lily
  • Scientific name: Zephyranthes spp.
  • Not native to the Philippines, but is an introduced species to the Philippines and is now naturalized.
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This flower is the pink rain lily or rosy rain lily or rose fairy lily or rose zephyr lily (Zephyranthes rosea ). She sure has a lot of common names.

Interesting Facts

  • Naming:
    • Named after its extraordinary character of blooming right after heavy rain. In the Philippines, this flower blooming often signals the start of the cooler monsoon weather.
    • Its genus name Zephyranthes means “flower of the west wind,” associating the plant to winds that historically signal seasonal rains.
    • In the Philippines, rain lilies are sometimes referred to as the “tulips of the tropics” because of their upright and elegant physical look and their ability to create mass displays of color after a rain shower. This nickname is popular among Filipino landscapers.
  • Common Species & Colors:
    • Zephyranthes rosea (pink/rose rain lily)
    • Zephyranthes candida (white rain lily)
    • Zephyranthes citrina (yellow rain lily)
  • Local breeding:
    • While not native to the Philippines, this flower has been naturalized after its introduction and is now widespread.
    • Local breeders have created 33 Philippine-bred Zephyranthes hybrids, with a wide variety of colors, forms, and even double or triple-layered blooms.
  • Blooming:
    • Their blooming can be triggered on demand. Gardeners in the Philippines water rain lily beds to mimic rainfall and trigger their blooming. Blooms appear four to five days after watering.
  • Maintenance and adaptability
    • Low maintenance and well-adapted to the Philippine’s intense heat and sun.
  • Toxicity:
    • Its bulbs contain various toxic alkaloids that can cause vomiting, convulsions, and death to humans, livestock, and poultry. Handle its bulbs with caution.
  • Symbolism:
    • Rain lilies symbolize rebirth, joy, and fresh start, fitting for a country often recovering from storms.

Sightings & Stories

I noticed this flower when we went to Roca Encantada in Guimaras. We went around the house perimeter and on our way up the stairs along the sharp edges of the rocks, there was a single pink rain lily (the one in the photo above). She still had a few dew drops on her face, but she stood proud and lovely. She enchanted me with her beauty, so I paused, said hello, and took her photo.

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One interesting breed that I am interested to see in person is the red rain lily or the red puff ball rain lily or the fireball lily. I hope I get to see her one day:

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Photo from a blog on rain lilies: https://philippineobservers.wordpress.com/2015/06/07/the-rain-lilies-of-cavite/

Field Notes

I observed this flower a little up close. She looked soft and delicate, and because there was only one of her kind in that place, I respected her presence instead and did not come close enough to smell or touch her. Now that I have learned a little about the rain lily, I thank the heavens for my intuition. It turns out that the rain lily’s bulbs are toxic.

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Learning about the rain lily reminded me that observing nature requires both curiosity and sensitivity. We approach flowers with wonder, but also with respect. We listen to our senses, understanding our roles as recipients of their gifts. We present ourselves to each flower and invite them to reveal their characters to us. Some flowers are friendly enough to be gathered and examined closely. Others deserve to be admired from a distance, untouched and unbothered, and honored simply for existing.

And how appropriate, I write this reflection bearing the gift of Osho’s words that I read just recently:

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This post is part of a mini project called Flora Field Notes: notes and observations on Philippine flora.

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This post also joins Terri Webster Schrandt’s The Flower Hour.

Evanesce

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The moon, the sky
birds in flight—
above, so high.

I cannot reach.
I cannot fly.

I envy what stays
out of reach:
distant,
almost gone.