mimosas
Does jogging one's memory build it up? Probably not - anyway, my memory was jogged some time back to the fact that mimosas actually bloom - delicately, but beautifully so. I also didn't think of them as being profusely abundant in the wild, but such is not the case.
On the way to my daughter's home in Tennessee, there's a section of US Hwy 27 just north of Chattanooga that has an amazing amount of mimosa trees on both sides of the highway. I wouldn't have noticed these except for the fact that they were in full bloom. Their flowers are round and from a distance they look like little pink powder puffs and really stood out against the green of their surroundings.
I remember another mimosa tree of long ago that stood in the front yard of the house on Hickman Road in Augusta in which I did most of my growing up. It's branches forked out low to the ground and was very easy to climb and was not tall enough for you to receive the parental warning - "you'll fall out and break your neck"! I don't know why they were so unconcerned about arms and legs and other body parts. It does seem that we fell some and bruised our pride, not to mention certain other portions of our anatomies.
The front yard was just our sometimes playground, but the back yard was the place that we played on, in, around and sometimes under, every tree, structure, fence and even weed on the property. We played every game we could think of that already existed and many we invented ourselves. You have probably already guessed - this was before TV was in our home.
For many years we had a garden and even kept chickens when we first moved there. I remember Dad buying a new batch of chickens - next morning, the rooster's crowing woke my father up too early - we had that feisty fowl for Sunday dinner. You might say that the rooster's advertising got it in hot water - literally.
I don't think that loud, feathered one even got to see the mimosa, because he lived (and died) in the backyard and the tree was in the front. ec
On the way to my daughter's home in Tennessee, there's a section of US Hwy 27 just north of Chattanooga that has an amazing amount of mimosa trees on both sides of the highway. I wouldn't have noticed these except for the fact that they were in full bloom. Their flowers are round and from a distance they look like little pink powder puffs and really stood out against the green of their surroundings.
I remember another mimosa tree of long ago that stood in the front yard of the house on Hickman Road in Augusta in which I did most of my growing up. It's branches forked out low to the ground and was very easy to climb and was not tall enough for you to receive the parental warning - "you'll fall out and break your neck"! I don't know why they were so unconcerned about arms and legs and other body parts. It does seem that we fell some and bruised our pride, not to mention certain other portions of our anatomies.
The front yard was just our sometimes playground, but the back yard was the place that we played on, in, around and sometimes under, every tree, structure, fence and even weed on the property. We played every game we could think of that already existed and many we invented ourselves. You have probably already guessed - this was before TV was in our home.
For many years we had a garden and even kept chickens when we first moved there. I remember Dad buying a new batch of chickens - next morning, the rooster's crowing woke my father up too early - we had that feisty fowl for Sunday dinner. You might say that the rooster's advertising got it in hot water - literally.
I don't think that loud, feathered one even got to see the mimosa, because he lived (and died) in the backyard and the tree was in the front. ec
posted by mreddie | 10:13 AM
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