Trees and pythons

I've been charmed by the character trees in Darwin.

The tamarind on the corner of Mitchell and Knuckey Streets gave the name to the park and is a gathering place for local itinerants. Yes, that's the Darwin term for people drifting in and out of the city. In the 1990s I remember going for an early-morning hike into the hills of Grand Comoros, an island in the Indian Ocean, where I tasted a tamarind fresh off the tree for the first time. No fruit evident on this one, but perhaps it's the wrong season.

Pride of place in the plaza on the corner of Knuckey Street and Smith Street Mall are two raintrees and a large weeping fig. Raintrees are so named because their leaves close at night and open in the morning, releasing liquid that has condensed during the night and 'raining' below the tree. The raintrees are probably my favourite in the CBD. These are now in flower.

At night the raintrees are illuminated, which to me is the height of tropical romance and reminds me of my first visit to Thailand in the 1990s (clearly a defining travel period of my life) when lights in trees were a revelation.

These raintrees were planted in 1957 and are majestic now, but the plaque warns that they will be outlived by their less exotic neighbour, the humble weeping fig.

The Tree of Knowledge is an old banyan (another ficus!) in front of the Civic Centre. According to its plaque, it's signficant to both the Chinese and the Aboriginal communities. We admire it whenever we visit the library, and feel that we are continuing the tradition of acquiring knowledge in its vicinity – even if our acquisition of knowledge focuses on crime fiction and thrillers.

From South American raintrees to African baobabs. The Botanic Gardens has an exceptional, exquisite section called the Africa Madagascar Garden, where a collection of rare baobab trees are grown. These include some baobab species that are endemic to Madagascar, are highly endangered, and are being grown here. I'm going to include a few photos here because this garden has totally enthralled me on every visit.

Okay, I know you're all waiting for the python. Here it is, draped over a branch in the Botanic Garden. Isn't it wonderful?

Sadly for all the awestruck tourists (like me), it is a fake. But once you know that, it's quite fun watching all the other awestruck tourists taking photos and pointing it out to their friends. The question is what to do. Does one allow the delusion as a magical Darwin experience, or does one enlighten the deluded? What would you do?