The magnolia tree took its sweet time blooming this year. I got so excited when I noticed the first tiny tender green sprouts on its slender branches several weeks ago. Surely, magnolia blossoms couldn’t be far behind, I thought.
But, the tree whispered, “Not yet.”
Each morning, I checked, hoping to see signs that the tree was getting closer to delivering on its promise of lush flowers. But the magnolia would not be rushed.
One day those sprouts turned into hundreds of thick smoky green buds covering the branches. They plumped up under the sun’s warmth and grew so enormous that I thought they’d burst right before my eyes.
“How long will you make me wait?” I asked.
But, the magnolia murmured, “Not yet.”
“Please hurry,” I pleaded, because I could see spring’s rosy color peeking out of those expectant buds, a hint of what was to come.
And just like the sweet anticipation of presents on your birthday, finally the big day arrived greeting me with huge flowers of creamy vanilla and purply-pink petals as soft as a baby’s cheeks, enveloping the branches so completely, there was no hint of the tree’s body beneath.
I spent as much time with my beautiful blossoms as I could. The flowers lasted for days, and I hoped they would stay forever.
But it doesn’t work that way. Slowly, the magnolia began its gentle shower of falling petals, dropping its springtime cloak over its roots. Soon there was a carpet of pink, white and lavender that eventually turned a soft deerskin brown and began withering away.
“Not yet,” I begged the magnolia tree.
It just smiled. “I’ll see you next spring,” it promised.
© Lynn Wyvill 2012