Nothing actually stands between saying, “The river sang,” and “It was as if the river sang,” other than a set of rigid rules that forbids the former from being more than a metaphor. -Fr. Stephen Freeman
Monday, June 14, 2010
Magnolia
It's that time of year again. Time to hibernate. My recessive English and Scots-Irish genes somehow overpowered the Cherokee and Choctaw in me, and I have almost no heat tolerance. Today for the first time, I walked and ran in the gym instead of outside. The heat index was 106 the other day. I've taken to wearing a wide-brimmed hat if I have to walk across huge parking lots. For the next two-plus months, I won't walk anywhere except across parking lots, probably.
Except that last night, we did go for a walk late in the evening, and thanks to the breezes, it was bearable.
And I'll be in Europe part of the next two-plus months, so of course I'll be walking all over the place there.
But while in the South, it's hibernation time for the most part.
Even so, I love this time of year because of the flowers. My petunias look great, the portulica is so colorful, and unexpected trumpet vine added a shock of color recently to our chaotic hedgerow.
And magnolias are just magical. I walked by a tree this morning (en route from the gym; it was still bearable enough, in the shade, to walk a block and a half) and smelled its perfume from ten feet away.
That scent, and those larger-than-life, creamy flowers are irresistable to me. When I'm in the park, I have to stop and put my face down inside any flower near enough to the ground.
And now and then one comes home with me, as in the photo above. This one came from a tree that gets climbed a lot and has graffiti all over the lower part. I figured it would be better appreciated at home than remaining on the tree.
Here's to the beauty of summer that makes the heat worth it.
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3 comments:
That is sumptuously gorgeous.
It's chilly enough here I can tell you...
Sheila,
I love that photograph. I, too, am charmed by magnolias. I watch with anticipation the buds in the late spring and take great delight in the blooms. Their scent is intoxicating.
Sorry, about the genetic shortchanging that you received. :) I seem to have gotten more of the Cherokee than everyone else, but I'm also the only one that wears a kilt.
Hmmm. . . . that may have been a bit of a goof. I'm not sure what just happened. I am definitely not Amy Jo if Amy Jo is the one that appears to have made that previous comment. Has she been the authour I am sure it would have been more sagacious. She is some fine young lady!
She is also looking directly over my right shoulder and his making funny sounds, sort of like little huffing sniffles as she watches me ty. . ... Hey! Put that down. ()(HJ)(#)(JF) V!!!!(^)#&)#) P
POW! BANG! POP!
Ok, so they don't sound like little huffing sniffles. . . :)
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