If we're really
lucky and in the right place at the right time, there will be a day
this month when a perfect blue sky will coincide with the opening of
one of the most exquisite flowers in the plant world. Rising out of
pointed silver buds to form globes of waxy petals, Magnolia flowers
will grace us with their presence and for a short few weeks these
epitomes of refined elegance will lift our gardens out of the mundane
and into the realms of aristocracy.
They are the most
grown up of flowers, neither bright nor particularly cheerful, but
calm, serene and understated.
It was the glimpse
of a Magnolia soulangeana in full bloom from a bus window on the way
to my first job that began my love affair with plants and like many a
first love it stayed with me and blossomed over the years to embrace
other more exotic species of Magnolia like grandiflora, wilsonii and
acuminata.
There are some
lovely trees in Monmouth, opposite the Priory and in Powell's Court
are two beauties, but strangely for a few years now my affection has
centred itself around a particular young Magnolia which I've watched
rise steadily from behind the bare brick boundary wall of a small
garden. Which named variety it is I'm not sure but the flowers are
primrose yellow glowing candles and I know that I shall soon be
making any excuse to drive past in the hope of catching them at their
best before an almost inevitable late frost blights their perfection.
Being a self
confessed plantaholic, I'm usually incapable of restraint and if I
really covet a plant, believe it will grow in my garden and can
afford its price then that's the deal done, but when it comes to
Magnolia it's just not that simple. It seems that my love for them
has always been from afar, if I had one of my own at close quarters
it might lose some of its allure, familiarity might breed contempt
and I couldn't risk that, not with my first love.
