Magnificent Magnolia

An essay to the evergreen.

Many of you know I purchased my childhood home from my parents in 2003. The most comforting aspect about moving back into my growing-up home doesn’t all reside inside. I was five years old when my parents moved into the house at Ferry Farms. On one side of our property were three huge Magnolias. I don’t remember how two of them were lost, but one still stands in the intervening 60 years.

This magnolia has survived, among many other events, many Andrews and Gunthers climbing and tearing at its branches, Hurricane Isabel in 2003, and the back-to-back blizzards of 2010 known locally as Snowmegaadon.

Throughout the decades, this tree has been a magnet to the imagination if you spend time in its branches. Our magnolia was a place of adventure in the summer as in my prime flexibility and fearlessness, I would climb sturdy and slim branches 20 plus feet up as far to the top as I could reach until I felt the wind sway as I would rock back and forth holding on. I could look out over and survey the river activity beyond. My brothers, sisters, and I loved the fall and winter times when we would create a stockpile of magnolia seedpod hand grenades for our epic battles. We’d bite off the stem of seedpods like we were pulling out the pin of our grenade and throw it at the enemy across the yard. We’d fill our arsenal metal garbage bins full and use the can lids as shields against the Magnolia missile barrage.

The Magnolia’s gifts are ever-green, like its lustrous leaves. It gives its fragrant massive white blooms in the spring and summer, filling our home with fragrance and artful grace.

In October, it is the Halloween spook tree when we use a PVC pipe to mysteriously deliver candy from hidden higher branches. Its glossy green leaves are for garlands and wreaths in winter. Over the years, I have many memories of neighbors knocking on our door for permission to collect the leaves to grace their homes. This Magnolia always has abundance for the neighborhood.

And this tree continues to delight. When our grandchildren come over after a quick hug, the Magnolia is the ultimate destination proclaimed as their favorite tree. And for good reason, over the years, its shoots have created a secret garden grove that encloses those who venture into the interior.

My dad told me once that his favorite color was green because he said it was a color that symbolized hope. Perhaps that is why this magnificent Magnolia means so much to me. Its dominant green presence year after year, producing leaves, pods, and blooms despite the vagarities of weather, is comfortingly steadfast and hopeful. Yes, one day, this Magnolia will indeed die. Its life expectancy is up to 120 years. I hope beyond me, someone else will enjoy its beauty and grace in its time. Even if they never know my stories of adventure and imagination, they will hopefully make their own. But for today, thank you, Magnolia, for so much perennial hope and happiness.