Nature has a way of reminding us.
A languid Sunday morning beckoned me outside. The wind which I heard gusting the night before as I lay in bed had whimsically blown a layer of leaves into the pool. Glad for the excuse, I sauntered out in new robe and old sandals to separate earth from water. Standing on tip toes as I strained to free the net from its place on the patio's fascia board, a faint familiar scent played at my nose. I stopped in mid reach and closed my eyes, letting the fragrance wash over me like so many fond memories. Turning half a step to my left to inhale the recollection even deeper, I tasted the tiny bananas. I heard the unsure pulse of the lagoon as its contents gently lapped the rocky shore. I felt the sun kiss my receptive skin as I swam and paddled and dozed under a far away sky. I saw that golden orb ease into a salty bath as the soft warble of ukuleles danced in sweet exultation.
Opening my eyes to the sight of one single bloom, the siren song of the past receded to a soft murmur. I love this tree. It's a natural echo.
Far from a mere source of nostalgia, however, my magnolia tree is a harbinger. That first bloom tells me that a new season is nearly upon us. Assessing the rest of the bulbs, it is apparent that spring has just about run its course. The flowers bloom in earnest in the days just prior to the temperature supernova that defines a Scottsdale summer.
It was time for one last trip to the cabin before an evening fire wouldn't be necessary to chase the cold from our bones. To drink the last cups of coffee and hot chocolate on the deck as we sit rapt and wrapped under blankets and a blanket of stars. Stars so close that we yearn to rest our heads upon their galactic pillow. Stars so close that we should be able to feel the reflective warmth of the sun upon our cheeks and the tips of our noses. Alas, we shiver against temperatures in the mid 30s and long for a way to bring the chill home with us in a few days, a countermeasure for the impending heat.
Much further away than the hour and a half drive from our bills and our lives, we consumed more than the cold. A funny kind of osmosis happens up there. Tranquility leaks in, carrying with it the crackling fury of renewed energy. Baggage is dropped off. Scuttled amidst the tall pines and crisp, dry air. Though our climb in elevation eventually ceases, the concerns of the Valley keep rising, rising, rising. A lead weight around the neck now a helium balloon floating inexorably nearer the heavens with each northbound mile. By the time we are settled around that evening fire, someone else has taken possession of those worries for awhile. When it's time to head back down the hill, they drift back to us. Only the weight is never as heavy. The problems less insurmountable.
And so here I sit this morning, drinking my second cup of coffee and looking out the window at a tree in full bloom. Grateful for an old friend that always tells me what I need to hear.
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You have described (very well I may add) the perfect morning. I am looking forward to the changes the season brings.
Carol: Not only nice to enjoy life, but absolutely necessary. Sometimes you can find direction rather than just a moment to savor. Thanks for commenting.
Melody: Perfect for me at least. Thanks for stopping in, and I hope the changing season finds you well.
That loyal friend is telling you to escape reality from time to time so you can be reminded of the strength you have to always return.
Oh Paul. This is priceless. We have the magnificent Magnolia too. I love the stout leaves and the majestic blossoms. Ours bloom a bit later, but when they bloom, they dominate everything growing around.
Thanks.
Amanda: About as well rested as a young dad can be! I do feel better than I have in quite some time.
Lenn: There is little more spectacular than magnolias in full bloom. I would love to see them in full splendor in your area. I can imagine what a sight that is to see. You don't see too many magnolia trees our way, and I wasn't even aware that we had one until it bloomed that first May after we bought this house. Whenever I need a reminder of things that were and that will be again, I need look no further than my back patio.
Marc: It sure is. That intoxicating fragrance is pure South Pacific to me. It smells like sun tan lotion and sunsets.
Elaine: Ah, but it takes a rare human to understand that, sis. You listen to your canyons as I listen to my tree. Are they telling interesting tales today?
William: We are limited in this world only by ourselves. Everyone has that reset button within their minds and spirits that needs to be tripped from time to time to break through the mental plateaus that plague us. We have a tendency to miss the horizon as we fixate on the seemingly unconquerable obstacle(s) in front of us. Only when you step back and to the side can you learn the lesson of perspective. Problems seem less daunting, and less important, frankly. They will eventually be replaced with new problems anyway. The only constant is us, and we are ever changing at that. Perhaps I should have titled this "Evolution."
William: I really like your outlook. I consider any agent in the San Diego area that gets an opportunity to have a cross sale with you to be quite fortunate. Accepting problems and challenges as solutions waiting to be discovered is a fundamental bedrock of a smooth transaction in turbulent times.
Waldo: Evidenced by your conspicuous absence here of late, I am left to assume that all of those market reports you have been churning out are paying dividends. As such, what's a smart agent to do but follow suit?
Paul...
This is a bit of a strange coincidence...
About thirty minutes ago I called Blog Boy (Broker Bryant) out to our backyard and asked him to reach up and grab the Magnolia bloom for me :)
I then put the bloom in a vase where it now sits in front of me reminding of how sweet life can be :)
I just now read your comment on my last post and came over for a visit and voila a post about the "Steel Magnolia's" ... There's a bit of substance in that remark. You just have to think on it for a moment :)
I will now take my Magnolia bloom over to a neighbor who could use a little reminder that life is short and we need to make the best of what we have on a day to day basis.
Disclosure: This comment was not really submitted by TLW. It was submitted by her AR double :)
TLW...ROAR!
TLW: Seems like everyone has magnolias on the brain right now. Just the season, I suppose. I should be a good neighbor as well and take a bloom over to the folks next door ... but I think I'll savor it just a while longer as my own little private sanctuary.
Inna: So good to see your name in my blog again. Like finding a brand new bloom on that tree in the quiet hours before the world is awake. You never know how long the flower will thrive, but it always makes a lasting impression that outlives its brief visit.
MWA-
Paul: Don't you love those first signs of the season--and magnolias announce that time of the year like no other bloom--well. maybe the dogwoods! Great photos and very well-written. And, I love the new photo!
Paul....
You are a true poet in the making. Spring is why we live here in Arizona. My favorite is all the plants in bloom with a sweet sent that radiates all around.
C. Lange
Debe: It's actually a bitter sweet sign of the season here because the bloom lets me know that summer is right around the corner. While I tolerate the heat just fine, you won't find too many AZ residents who claim it as their favorite time of year. That said, the blooms are gorgeous while they last, much like the spring.
Michael: I'd lump fall and winter into the mix with spring as the reasons I choose to live here. It's just those darned few months of summer that are a bit rough. The beauty of our fair state, though, is the sanctuary of the high country just a mere hour and a half away. I'll be visiting our cabin in Mund's Park as the thermostat starts inching north of 100. Thanks for reading.
Paul,
I had a similara experience last night while walking the dog and actually noticing all of the blooming gardens and 'feeling' spring. We live in an amazing universe. It's good to see you appreciate it.
Doreen: Not a chance. I am unpeggable. ;)
Liz: I'll be sure to swing by your blog to give that a look. Sounds intriguing.
Martin: Good to see you around these parts again, Martin. Sounds like you are enjoying your corner of the universe, and that pleases me. Welcome back.
Paul, This was really lovely. Thank you for allowing us to really feel and smell the season.
Paul- Your gift is speaking the hearts of others along with your own! Bravo, I love this!
Susan: Thanks for reading!
Vanessa: Now that is a very nice thing to say. Thanks for taking the time to stop by as always.
Paul - I am certain your sales thus far are great, however if you ever put pen to paper you certainly could make your home in the hills permanent! You are so descriptive that you alloow all your readers to connect and be there smelling the salty waves and enjoy the wooded hills. You are fantastic at writing and if I may request, keep writing and in your spare time, there is not doubt you could get a publisher to take a look. I would be in line to get my signed copy!! Fantastic!
Candace, you are too sweet! Thank you for the encouragement.
Paul, Thanks for making my morning coffee the best I have had in a long time.
I agree with the suggestion Candace made you have a gift my friend.
Paul............the perfect morning.............looking to the birth of yet another season.....and as days pass and daze passed.................it will be fall and we will be mourning the passing of this perfect morning.........i shall consider packing pigments and making a trek to a cabin and see if i can capture the essence now to be remembered then.
Cameron: Thank you, my friend.
JMac: Oh, but fall never comes soon enough in the desert! Down here, we tend to stock up on 9 months of blissful perfection to see us through the remaining three scorchers. A late spring magnolia and the falling leaves of an ash tree both remind us why we choose to call this place home. So while the spring draws to a close, there is something just as magical waiting around the next bend.
Great post! Need to stop and appreciate what we have and what we are really working for :-)