Sensory perception is a many-splendoured thing, and without it we’d have nothing
It’s a glorious spring morning in Sydney and I’m full of nervous anticipation as I cross the university campus, heading toward the lecture theatre where I’m going to be talking to the latest group of students about the senses. I love to watch their faces when I describe the wonders of sensory biology. I want to do it justice; I’m not just relaying information, I’m giving a performance in the hope that my enthusiasm might kindle theirs.
On my way, I cut through a Sydney landmark known as the Quadrangle – the centrepiece of the campus. The architects added a finishing touch, a subtropical tree in one corner, and, each year, as the southern hemisphere spring takes hold, this jacaranda tree erupts into bloom, its fragrant lilac flowers calling time on the academic year. Jacarandas across Sydney join in, transforming the city. For a month, the parks and pavements are blanketed with petals. For me, it’s the sensory highlight of the year.
