Posted by: pendrops | January 10, 2008

magnolia and me

magnolia.jpg

I went walking at the park again a few days ago. I walked there again today. The unseasonable warmth pulled me out of our quiet apartment, out of my droning workout routine, and into the fresh air alive with birdsongs, raindrops and the aroma of new life beneath the surface.

Even though I wouldn’t say I’ve technically felt cooped up these mild winter weeks, there was something almost necessary in the January breeze, the bare trees, the brown grass, the flitting bluebirds.

But it wasn’t just the immediate and physical world, and my place in it, that invited me to this little pocket of the world and washed over me with each step. I have a love affair with this place where I have walked, listened, sought, dreamed, breathed, and remembered; this place where, not so long ago, a boy proposed to a girl on a solitary moonlit amphitheater stage. It seems so much of my story – and a greater story – is told under the sprawling sky on these winding paths. I needed to hear those stories again, however they would be told to me.

And, today, one of those stories flooded me as I stepped in uneven rhythms over puddles and branches. It came on me at the magnolia trees, small and growing, their striking green leaves complete but for the absent glory of their crisp white flowers. It wasn’t long ago – maybe August or September – that I ventured off the concrete path to put my nose to the newly budded branches, inhaling a lingering fragrance more complex and lasting than any manufactured perfume.

Just by passing the trees & seeing their stark and persistent beauty, the bouquet came back, strong and real, like I’d again tread over soggy grass to draw in a breath of the pale petals. Isn’t that something? The way our brains resurface a distant and nearly lost moment, a sliver of our history, everything we were thinking, feeling and being, and then arrest it forever? And that we, without premeditation, can draw on it over and over and over again just by seeing something, smelling something, returning to a place that has mysteriously invited us.

I can’t tell you the story the magnolia tree told me as I walked. That’s for the magnolia and me. But I was just thinking it’s really something.

Advertisements

Responses

  1. Hmmmm. . . I know exactly what you mean and you said it so well. Beautiful!

    Really enjoyed seeing you and Jason this weekend. Can’t wait for your visit sometime this year.

    Keep writing!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: