Description
Ficus obliqua is a tree, which may reach 15–60 m (50–200 ft) in height with a similar crown width. It has smooth thin grey bark with lighter-coloured lenticels, and a buttressed trunk, which may reach 3 m (10 ft) in diameter. The glossy green leaves are elliptic to oblong in shape and measure 5–8 cm (2–3 in) long by 2–3.5 cm (0.8–1.4 in) wide on 1–2 cm (0.4–0.8 in) petioles. They are alternately arranged on the stems. Growing in pairs, the round yellow fruit turn orange or orange-red dotted with darker red and reaches a diameter of 6 to 10 mm (0.2–0.4 in) upon ripening over April to July, although fruit can appear at other times of year. As is the case with all figs, the fruit is actually an inverted inflorescence known as a syconium, with tiny flowers arising from the inner surface. Ficus obliqua is monoecious—both male and female flowers are produced by the same plant, and in fact in the same fruit. Within any given fruit, female flowers mature several weeks before the male flowers.
Historically, there has been some confusion between Ficus obliqua and the related F. rubiginosa. However, F. obliqua can be distinguished by its smaller fruit on shorter stalks and its glabrous (hairless) leaves; in addition, the petioles have ascending hyaline hairs. Some forms of F. rubiginosa have both leaves and petioles glabrous while others have both covered in fine fur. The syconia of F. obliqua are smaller, measuring 4.3–11.9 mm long and 4.4–11.0 mm in diameter, compared with 7.4–17.3 mm long and 7.6–17.3 mm diameter for F. rubiginosa. Ficus brachypoda is a lithophytic plant from arid northern and western Australia, with a short petiole and leaf shape aligning it with Ficus platypoda.
Read more about this topic: Ficus Obliqua
Famous quotes containing the word description:
“Do not require a description of the countries towards which you sail. The description does not describe them to you, and to- morrow you arrive there, and know them by inhabiting them.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“God damnit, why must all those journalists be such sticklers for detail? Why, they’d hold you to an accurate description of the first time you ever made love, expecting you to remember the color of the room and the shape of the windows.”
—Lyndon Baines Johnson (1908–1973)
“Whose are the truly labored sentences? From the weak and flimsy periods of the politician and literary man, we are glad to turn even to the description of work, the simple record of the month’s labor in the farmer’s almanac, to restore our tone and spirits.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)