My magnolias are blooming, and they don’t know its the dead of winter. They’re probably confused because the weather is so unusual — it’s been warm during the day, and there hasn’t been any appreciable rainfall. Their budding started early last month, which precipitated a flurry of online research because I was worried about whether the trees would survive a budding with a subsequent freeze. The conclusion, as many things in life, was to let the trees be and they would sort it out themselves. So much for being an interfering new home owner.

The emerging blooms are beautiful. They fill me with hope for a coming spring, for longer days, and with longing for the coming days of lounging on the deck. Magnolias always remind me of my great grandmother, because she had a magnolia tree in her yard…and they were always the first trees to bloom in the spring. I was always happy as a child, seeing the magnolias during my visits.

I guess you could say that the magnolia is a pioneer — forging the path by announcing the coming of spring, and enduring cold temperatures and adversity while still managing to flower and flourish. And my lucky, optimistic magnolias have already reached California, which means that they’re unlikely to get buried in snow or be forced to eat their magnolia tree babies for sustenance. But the presence of those flowers still makes me sad for the early bloom, but happy for the eventuality of spring.

And left with the thought that there should be more magnolia trees in this world.


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