In other words, “magnolia bigflower.” Dang right. The one below is probably eight inches across (20cm for you Euros), or more. I asked my wife several weeks ago, when the magnolias began to bloom, to get me a picture for my blog. She had a harder time than expected, because the two or three young magnolia trees near our house aren’t blooming (I think they don’t get enough sun) and everywhere she found good blossoms they were too high up in the tree for her to get a good picture. But she finally came up with a few. Usually when I post pictures here I scale them down a good bit, but I’ve left this one full-size so you can really see it (click for the larger version).
I’ve never been especially interested in flowers, or paid much attention to them, although I’ve noticed that changing in recent years—more about that if and when I finish this poem I’m working on. But even as a child I liked magnolias: they were so big, and they smelled so good, and the contrast of the heavy white petals and the dark shiny green leaves was beautiful to me, much more so than the more typical and colorful flowers. I guess I’ve always been attracted to a sort of restrained beauty. (The trees are also good for climbing.)
Ask yourself: why does this exist? There is no practical reason for it to be so beautiful.
Pre-TypePad
Light On Dark Water 
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