The other day when I posted a picture of the shy and modest spiderwort I mentioned that there are so many azaleas around here that I almost stop noticing them. Here’s what I was talking about.
Take that, Woodward.
I call the picture above “an azalea” because that seems to be the custom around here—people use the singular for the bush more than for the single flower, perhaps because you hardly ever see a single flower. That is not my azalea, by the way; I don’t know whose house that is. The only azaleas at our house currently are babies, planted six or eight weeks ago, and just a foot or two high with no more than a dozen or so blossoms. Last Sunday on the way home from Mass I asked my wife to take a few pictures of azaleas for my blog. The ones here just happened to be good specimens that we passed. I like the next one for its variety.
The azaleas usually start blooming in late February and early March, and are now beginning to wind down. We’ve had heavy rain for the last couple of days, and azalea flowers don’t handle that well; these bushes probably now look like they’re covered in wet toilet paper.
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