The magnolias are such hussies this time of year.  All showy with their voluptuous blooms spilling all over themselves,  petals all slippery and boozy on the ground below.

James has been gifting me with petals and flowers and tiny pebbles all week.  He sees a flowerbed with bobbing heads of pinks and reds and oranges and yellows and runs to it, grasps a stem with both hands, and pulls it right into his nose.

What does it smell like?,  I ask about the flame orange tulip.

Orange, he tells me.  It smells like the color orange.

And the daffodil?

He puts his nose under its sunny bonnet.

Like rose salad.  Rose petal salad.


5 thoughts on “Magnolias

  1. Love magnolias. They remind me of springtime at college. Incredibly evocatively. Their short-lived splendor is a metaphor for so many things … xox

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