On a splendid afternoon, I found myself reclining on the veranda of the exquisite Tukul Restaurant nestled within the Ghion Hotel. Towering, timeless giant trees that stood sentinel, imparting a fortress-like ambience that shielded the gaze from anything beyond the verdant gardens, framed the vantage point.

My tranquil contemplation was abruptly interrupted by an explosive sound, swiftly followed by an object hurtling through the air at lightning speed, momentarily unnerving me. The birds scattered in the wake of this unexpected event still shrouded in mystery. It was then that fellow patrons of the veranda came to my aid. They revealed that the explosive sound emanated from the cracking of a jacaranda tree seed pod, propelling its seed into the air.

I marvelled at the rarity of witnessing such a natural phenomenon firsthand, an experience both unexpected and pleasantly enchanting. With its wonders and inexplicable riddles, nature is an inexhaustible source and a lifetime seems inadequate to explore them all.

The Hotel's trees are ancient and diverse, hosting numerous indigenous species. The lush vegetation, with towering trees and meticulously maintained lawns, transforms the place into a haven for nature lovers, a botanical open lab. Strolling in the evening's cool air, the old cobblestone slabs and dry leaves crunching beneath my feet create an ambience that feels like a scene from a dream. While not formally designated as a city park, Ghion Hotel rivals any other frequented by joggers, trekkers, and leisurely strollers. It puzzles me why more city residents do not embrace this paradise in the heart of the city.

The legacy of tree conservation in Addis Abeba extends back decades, with historical figures like poet laureate Tsegaye Gebremedhin fighting tirelessly to save iconic trees from being felled.

One such example is the majestic acacia tree standing tall in front of the National Theatre, a testament to the unwavering fight for cultural heritage and environmental protection. Another magnificent tree at the Italian Cultural Institute, estimated to be almost a century old, has intertwined its roots with the earth, creating a natural platform for other plants to flourish. This display of self-sufficiency serves as a powerful reminder of nature's inherent ability to thrive when left undisturbed.

Addis Abeba is blessed with pockets of green scattered throughout the city, each one a visual feast for the eyes. As I write this, I find myself nestled in a small garden tucked between the main building of the Zobras Olympiakos Greek Club and its tennis court. This intimate space, shaded by towering juniper trees, exudes an air of serenity.

I remember from my time at the 4 Kilo Science faculty campus that a freshman asked the meaning of unpronounceable scientific names pegged to the trees. His friend who had no idea what the inscriptions meant gave a witty reply “No one is allowed to pee on the trees” which made us all burst into laughter. Like that of countless other green pockets within the city – the sprawling campuses of Addis Abeba University campuses adorned with decades-old trees, the iconic palm tree-lined promenades around the Wabi Shebelle and Ethiopia hotels – serve as a constant reminder of the importance of preserving these urban sanctuaries.