Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Saucer Magnolia


No one lives in the old house down near the river any more. The widow who planted the magnolia  has been gone for years. 

On my way to the grocery,  I used to see her tending her flowers and once, when some of her black steers had made an escape to forage along the grassy roadside, I stopped to help her put them back. She seemed surprised --like a woman who had things well in hand -- but she thanked me when the last wayward critter was back in the pasture.
 
 Years passed and on my weekly trips by the house, I became aware that now a daughter was living there with the widow.  The old lady still pottered about in the yard but the middle-aged daughter was generally nearby.

Then one day, I saw the old lady striding down the road, making for the bridge. I stopped and asked if she wanted a ride.

'Yes, I do,' she said, climbing in to the front seat. 'I want to go to Walnut. I told my daughter but she's so dreadful slow.'

As we started for the bridge, she continued to talk and I suddenly realized that she was making no sense at all.  That, in fact, I was probably abetting an Alzheimer's victim in her urge to wander.

'You know,' I told her, ' I'm afraid your daughter will worry -- maybe I'd best take you back home.'

The daughter was in the yard, looking for her mother when we returned. The old lady seemed relieved to be back home and the daughter accepted my explanation. That was the last I saw of either of them.

But when I saw the pink tree blooming the other day, I was taken with the notion that the old lady's spirit might wander back, of a spring evening, and sit in one of the lawn chairs under  the saucer magnolia, savoring its glorious bloom.

   
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20 comments:

Ms. A said...

I'll bet she does!

Martin said...

Wow, what a story. How could anyone leave a house like that, empty for long?

Kristen Haskell said...

You've probably heard this a million times, but your writing just pulls me right in. I love it and this post blew me away. I'll be journaling about this one because it really touched me.

June said...

I like the thought of the old lady coming back to enjoy her tree. She sounds as if she was a Strong Old Lady Who Could Take Care Of Herself. Until she couldn't. Lucky her to have a daughter to step in.
And lucky her to have a good neighbor to take her back home.

Kath said...

Magnolias of all kinds are some of God's finest work. Love this story.

But now I'm thinking of my parents' home with the fruit trees and rose garden behind the formal Japanese garden. Dad was so delighted with the fruit he could provide and the roses he brought to mom.

Brian Miller said...

smiles...i imagine she might...it is a beautiful tree...and perhaps at one point she loved to sit and look at it...good on you for taking her back...

Wayfarin' Stranger said...

That is a fine magnolia. And they all made it through the spring this year without getting frozen back!

Anonymous said...

By writing this you have memorialized a woman, her daughter, and her tree, and done so beautifully.

Deana the Queena

Vicki Lane said...

The widow had about ten children. One of the sons pastures cattle there and keeps the yard mowed. Often when there are that many heirs, it's hard for them to come to an agreement about selling. That may be what happened here.

Barbara Rogers said...

Great to enjoy whatever you share...you certainly paint a picture of life, you and the people and places around you. Thanks.

Jean Baardsen said...

Loved your post, Vicki. You see things other people just don't see.

Amelia said...

I love these trees so dearly...their smell, their bright flag of promise before all of the other flowering trees, and the confetti that their blooms create, they are so beautiful. Great post!

NCmountainwoman said...

Wonderful story and lovely thought of the woman's spirit savoring the magnolia.

Linda@VS said...

You moved me with this post, Vicki. It always amazes me that you manage to convey such a long, complex story in a few short paragraphs. And that tree...I can close my eyes and imagine myself sitting under that beautiful tree.

Darla said...

Glorious tree. And the story is lovely; I found paragraphs 2 and the last one particularly evocative...

chiccoreal said...

Dear Vicki: Lovely memories, as lovely as that tree. The image of the old woman and middling daughter are etched clearly in my mind. From where these images imbue life, fully blooming as the tree, they come into focus in my mind's eye. They share every figmenting memory with me under those beauty saucer blossoms of the magnolia.

Beth said...

That is a wonderful story, Vicki. And a wonderful tree. I could so clearly picture that lady and could even see her as a young bride planting that tree, never dreaming it would grow so big.

Thérèse said...

I am sure this lady who made such a gift to our eyes through yours does enjoy from where she now is.

Coloring Outside the Lines said...

That's a great memory - and a beautiful old tree to remind you of the lady who lived there and your encounters with her ever time you drive by.

jennyfreckles said...

I can't think of a better memorial than a huge magnolia in bloom - except maybe to be immortalised in one of your stories, Vicki.