248/366 [A Magnolia of my own]

It’s more than nineteen years since my Dad died and the one enduring memory of that time is the magnificent magnolias that were flowering in so very many suburban gardens across Melbourne as we made the long drive to the funeral. And now, each August, as I see them spring to life again, I find that they are inextricably linked to my memories of Dad. Over the years I had made a couple of half hearted  attempts to grow one in my garden but they struggled to establish themselves in the clay soil and through the savage drought. But this morning, when I came out into the garden, there were open flowers on a newly planted specimen near our front door.


~ by korechronicles on September 4, 2008.

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