Trees
I felt the breeze caress the side of my face. It was a momentous day, eradicating any insipid thoughts of the past winter. He stood in front of me, tall and proud. His moment of glory had come and he finally had all rights to flaunt his beauty. For the first time I noticed him.
He was a Saucer Magnolia. Standing tall on West 17th Street where many others have stood before him. Perhaps it was in his amicable gait, or the way his hair spun and moved with the wind, regardless he caught my attention. In my many walks along the same street, I had never noticed him. Im sure he’s full of history, for he hasn’t moved in generations. He had seen the construction, the rallies, the victories and loses endured by the ruggedness of the city. But today, regardless of all the sentiment that lie on that street corner, the saucer magnolia was noticed. Each flower was budding hope, exuding a brilliance which cannot be appreciated but by those who saw the potential which lie on that tree. The flowers on the branches, pink and white came out of their slumber to create a breathe-taking masterpiece.
That is exactly what this is about. It is about the ephemeral nature of beauty.
I stand still, mesmerized by the movement of the branches in response to the wind. The work in a synchronized harmony which can only be understood by them. Why is it that for the first time in years, I finally noticed the beauty of arbor?
I nostalgically return to the early mornings of summer, as a child in the home of my grandparents. At the first sign of sunrise, an aroma would arise from under our room door. It was a sweet, seductive scent which awoke all of my senses, and left me in a light, serene sleep. I would awake with only traces of the fragrance to be appreciated. I remember being curious about the stairs which led to nowhere. We were forbidden as children to climb the steps. Curiosity sank in and one day we stole the keys to the door and scurried on up, in search for the hidden treasure. Instead, to our surprise, we stumbled across the most beautiful garden, with the seductive aroma and intoxicating smell, which could have very easily enervated us. We were surrounded with rows of buds, and scents and aromas, full of color and vivacity, staring back at us. We stood, speechless. We had stumbled across passion, my grandfather’s love for botany.
I look around this spring, and realize that tranquility for me has always come in the form of a tree, a plant, or a flower. In Yokohama, it was in the month of April, where for a few momentous, yet short moments, the Sakura would bloom, raining pink dust and white residue, turning my black hair, a pretty fuchsia. I remember dancing in the pink snow, in the middle of April, worrying about nothing. That moment, that street, on pause in my mind.
I remember the shade of the palm trees, which provided shelter from the blistering summer days in Saudi. When the walk from the pool to my home seemed interminable, I would find a palm and sit beneath it. I looked up to see the raw dates, waiting to ripen, and within it all found myself without a thought in the world, but dazed, I gazed up to see the rays shining through the large leaves, almost teasing me, allowing me to realize that the shade would be temporary.
He was a Saucer Magnolia. Standing tall on West 17th Street where many others have stood before him. Perhaps it was in his amicable gait, or the way his hair spun and moved with the wind, regardless he caught my attention. In my many walks along the same street, I had never noticed him. Im sure he’s full of history, for he hasn’t moved in generations. He had seen the construction, the rallies, the victories and loses endured by the ruggedness of the city. But today, regardless of all the sentiment that lie on that street corner, the saucer magnolia was noticed. Each flower was budding hope, exuding a brilliance which cannot be appreciated but by those who saw the potential which lie on that tree. The flowers on the branches, pink and white came out of their slumber to create a breathe-taking masterpiece.
That is exactly what this is about. It is about the ephemeral nature of beauty.
I stand still, mesmerized by the movement of the branches in response to the wind. The work in a synchronized harmony which can only be understood by them. Why is it that for the first time in years, I finally noticed the beauty of arbor?
I nostalgically return to the early mornings of summer, as a child in the home of my grandparents. At the first sign of sunrise, an aroma would arise from under our room door. It was a sweet, seductive scent which awoke all of my senses, and left me in a light, serene sleep. I would awake with only traces of the fragrance to be appreciated. I remember being curious about the stairs which led to nowhere. We were forbidden as children to climb the steps. Curiosity sank in and one day we stole the keys to the door and scurried on up, in search for the hidden treasure. Instead, to our surprise, we stumbled across the most beautiful garden, with the seductive aroma and intoxicating smell, which could have very easily enervated us. We were surrounded with rows of buds, and scents and aromas, full of color and vivacity, staring back at us. We stood, speechless. We had stumbled across passion, my grandfather’s love for botany.
I look around this spring, and realize that tranquility for me has always come in the form of a tree, a plant, or a flower. In Yokohama, it was in the month of April, where for a few momentous, yet short moments, the Sakura would bloom, raining pink dust and white residue, turning my black hair, a pretty fuchsia. I remember dancing in the pink snow, in the middle of April, worrying about nothing. That moment, that street, on pause in my mind.
I remember the shade of the palm trees, which provided shelter from the blistering summer days in Saudi. When the walk from the pool to my home seemed interminable, I would find a palm and sit beneath it. I looked up to see the raw dates, waiting to ripen, and within it all found myself without a thought in the world, but dazed, I gazed up to see the rays shining through the large leaves, almost teasing me, allowing me to realize that the shade would be temporary.
posted by Rabia at 2:25 PM
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