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My dad loved this tree and he was angry and even hit us with a wet cloth, something he did only if we did something very wrong. When I think about it now I laugh as it was all part of growing up.



By NICOLETTE SCROOBY

MY MOM calls it her umbrella tree because that is what it looks like. The frangipani, with its mass of green foliage and flowers, grows in her front yard in Uitenhage.
As a child I would entertain myself for hours under this tree. I would pluck the petals of the fallen yellow and white sweet-smelling flowers, calling out he loves me ... he loves me not , even if there was no particular boy in mind.
I would climb it and spy on everyone who walked past my house

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