“Those are Bonamia rosea,” Davo said. “Not many things bloom out here in summer, but they will after decent summer rain.” “How?” I asked. “How does anything live in direct sun at these temperatures?” I mean, surely, it was forty-seven degrees today. “Some things thrive out here.” He watched the sunset, the brilliant display of colour across the sky. “They adapt and find a way.” I got the impression he wasn’t talking about the flowers, and I wondered what the purpose of this was. The conversation earlier about community, now showing me this, like he wanted me to see the beauty of this place.
