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| April 6 |
I won't outline it for you here — either you already know, or never will. Best to keep busy.
The good news is the blossoms on the saucer magnolia in front of my house have been unusually splendid and long lasting. Friday they were going strong, a dozen days after I first snapped them. This despite one day where the temperature dipped into the 20s for a few hours — usually that's enough to change them to the color and shape of scorched marshmallows.
Yet they survived.
"Notice the magnolia blossoms as you go out the door," I'll tell my wife, seeing her off to work.
I wondered why the blossoms would be so hearty and full this year, whether it might be that we had the tree trimmed last fall. Cutting back the deadwood — the tree is 50 years old if not older — might have encouraged new growth. Which was enough to make me think that the tragedy — well, one of the many tragedies — about our current situation is that pruning the government, had it been done with deliberation, humanity and care, and not with wild abandon, targeting the most vulnerable, might not have been a bad thing. But the reckless, wholesale, sloppy way that the richest-man-in-the-world-and-palpable-force-for-evil did it was not a good thing. Just the opposite. A bad, terrible thing.
All the news is not bad. Opposition builds, let by Harvard of all places...
Sorry, saucer magnolia blooms, some six inches wide, on naked branches awaiting their leaves. The moment I had the thought, "They're really lingering this year," at that very second, I looked down and saw the first fat petal on the front steps, a vanguard for the general surrender liable to arrive any day. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good. Or the bad.
Sorry, saucer magnolia blooms, some six inches wide, on naked branches awaiting their leaves. The moment I had the thought, "They're really lingering this year," at that very second, I looked down and saw the first fat petal on the front steps, a vanguard for the general surrender liable to arrive any day. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good. Or the bad.
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| April 18 |
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI saw an article headline somewhere, it said you can eat them.
ReplyDeleteChallenge accepted.
DeleteApparently you eat them raw & they have a slight ginger taste.
DeleteNot for me, but my hundreds of day lilies are coming up & the last two lilacs will bloom soon.
Lovely, thank you for the perspective.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Neil. When I'm in the middle of a bad situation, I remind myself that there will come a time (an hour, a day, a week, maybe longer depending on the situation) when I will not be in that state. And I also remind myself that I have led a life of almost absurd comfort, relative to much of the world. At any given moment, there are billions of people who would trade lives with me in a second.
ReplyDeleteI like "absurd comfort." It's true. Although ... and I can't recall who said this ... but suffering is suffering, and the unease some people feel when one pedal of their bed of roses is askew can be more than that of someone sleeping on the hard cold ground.
DeleteI think that depends on what you have grown used to. bmp
DeleteForsythia a far less impressive plant a bush actually is also having a stellar spring. ordinarily short lived its bright yellow blooms have held on for weeks. very satisfying .
ReplyDeleteSame thing here in northeast Ohio. Normally the yellow blooms appear around April Fool's Day at the earliest and usually a bit later. And they don't last very long. Cold weather and even late snow will turn them brown in a hurry.
DeleteThis year, they have lasted for more than two weeks and only now are they beginning to be replaced by green leaves. Mild days in March, and then a cold first half of April, appear to have slowed down the blooming this year, and far slower than I ever remember seeing in my three decades of living here.
I’ve been so angry, sad and upset that I’ve failed to notice the daffodils in our front yard, the forsythia everywhere and, of course the magnolias. My bad. I’m going to focus on all the good today, and celebrate Easter with great joy tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteNice read on my easy Saturday morning. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThe flowering trees and shrubs are start to burst out all over. I always think what a mystery it is that the flowers precede the leaves.
ReplyDeleteThis was a great analogy and perspective. In these troubled times, look for the little things in life that make you happy. Practice self-care. And as King Solomon said: "This too shall pass". Judy
ReplyDeleteI'm having my daughter's bedroom spruced up for my 4 year old granddaughter. Like looking out your door to see the magnolia blooms, I crack open that bedroom door several times a day to watch the beautiful, uplifting, transformation that a refinished floor and a fresh coat of paint can do for a room and the people using it.
ReplyDeleteNow that's a marvelous extension of a marvelous thought.
Deletejohn
Thanks for the signs of spring and beauty!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the signs of spring!
ReplyDeleteNice photos; I particularly like the one atop the blog.
ReplyDeleteLast weekend I was checking out the Botanic Garden and Arboretum websites to see how Spring was progressing. From the April 9 Arboretum "Bloom Report": "Freezing temperatures in the last week have affected some early-blooming white magnolias, causing their petals to turn shades of tan and brown..."
Your post today reminded me of that -- though a different version of magnolia, I'm sure your more poetic reference to "scorched marshmallows" would have worked there, too.
We ended up heading to the Botanic Garden on Sunday, despite knowing that things were not in full swing. Still plenty to see (including an osprey that's nesting there and a fine spread of crocuses by the carillon) and I gotta say, for a relatively pleasant weekend day with temps in the 60s, it was the least crowded I can recall it being.
Much, much more crowded was the swell cherry blossom display by the Museum of Science and Industry, which we visited yesterday:
https://chicago.suntimes.com/environment/2025/04/16/cherry-blossoms-peak-bloom-chicago-jackson-park-morton-arboretum-chicago-botanic-garden
Here in Cleveland, our white magnolia tree began blooming during the first few days of April, earlier than usual, thanks to the number of mild days we had during March. Then a chilly first half of April seemed to put them in a state of suspended animation. The tree has been a gorgeous shade of white for more than two weeks now, despite cold windy days, and a few nights near (or even below) freezing.
DeleteNormally, the beautiful and fragrant blooms last but a few days, and they often turn brown and bedraggled rather quickly, especially if there's any snow. And when that happens (which it often does), they look like they've been kissed by a blowtorch. Some years, not all of the buds open. This year, every last one did, and the flowers seemed even bigger and whiter than usual. What a show.
Have never seen such a prolonged and eye-popping display of magnolia blooms in my three decades of living here. Most of the first three weeks of April...longer-lasting than any other year. And yesterday, when it was sunny and windy and hit 80 for the first time since October, I could smell their fragrance through my open front door.
The Japanese cherry trees near the zoo were magnificent this past week, and thronged with picnicking Asian families. Some kind of spring ritual. Another winter in the books, and not a moment too soon. Not a lot of snow, but long, cold, gray, and miserable.
Oh, how beautiful the seasons are as they pass before us. Spring blossoms turn into fruit and colorful buds turn into green leaves. A few years ago I was studying the magic of my brother's apple tree and how the little bubble behind the flower was the pregnancy of an apple that would later become our Thanksgiving pie. When my mother, who was skittish about anything that had to do with reproduction, asked what I was doing, I told her, "I was studying the sex life of an apple." She acted as if I were some kind of perverted maniac. Maybe she was right, but when I became a grandfather I saw the seasons of life in a whole new way. Neil, you'll soon know what I'm talking about. Thank you for this ray of hope.
ReplyDeleteFunny you mention it, because it was just this afternoon when I was taking our dogs out in the back yard that I, too, noticed the gorgeous full blooms on our magnolia tree. Soon it will be the lilacs' turn was my thought, as I appreciatively admired the ample white and pink flowers gracing the tree which stands in the corner of our yard all year around, but attracts the most attention when it proudly displays its colours. For once, I wasn't thinking about politics.
ReplyDeleteNow that is a metaphor. And a beautiful one at that. Thank you Neil.
ReplyDelete