Clay and Dot, cut and bruised, emerged from the stand of cassias. The canes on which the bright yellow flowers erupted had been thick and unyielding as they pushed through them to the bark of the tree in their search for signs of the green lunar moth and the brown Condica Videns.
“I’m hungry. Let’s get some grub.” Clay said.
“Okay. We’re not going to find any today.”
On arrival at the drive through collection window Dot grabbed Clay’s shoulder, pointing.
“We were looking under the wrong golden arches.”
“I guess they don’t know the difference. Both can kill you.”
In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Join in you would be more than welcome. Other entries can be seen by following the blue frog and Rochelle’s post.
The cassia was my grandmother’s favourite tree. It required no care and was self-sown from the birds that feasted on its seed pods. The flowers were a lovely bright yellow and could either be a small tree or pruned into a shrub. It is now classified in many states of Australia as a noxious weed. What I didn’t know is that it is a source of cinnamon which until finding out today that it can be toxic I have been eating a lot of. It has great anti-infection properties and I am never sick. However, people ask me why I bruise so easily. Perhaps now I know the answer. Ceylon cinnamon does not have the same properties (it has less of them) but cinnamon made from Cassia is high in coumarin, another name for warfarin. Apparently cassia cinnamon is commonly used in the States where Ceylon cinnamon is used in the U.K. I don’t know where our cinnamon comes from in Australia.