At least ten years ago, when I was but a boy in my thirties, I planted a magnolia tree that my parents gave to me. For a decade or more, it's been a lovely shrub. Or is it a bush? Or a tree? It's been a nice looking stick with green things on it, but no flowers. None. Zippo. Zilch.
Until 2013.
This year my magnolia is blossoming happily. It's a limited run of blossoms, perhaps thirty, but what a treat. The blossoms are just starting so I've only illustrated a single one. I'll update this blog posting once the entire blooming tree is flowering. They smell good too, like a southern belle.
What exactly does a southern belle smell like, Ian? Have you ever had an olfactory encounter with a southern bell? Were you not worried her Remington pump-action daddy would shoot you? Or worse....like live in the Bible Belt?
Okay, okay...they, the magnolia blossoms, smell pleasant and, no, I've never been to Georgia. I have been to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and it smelled like bad country music, ragged dollar bills and tired sidewalks. I've put South Carolina out of my mind, unlike Georgia.
Sometimes when I write one of my blog posts, I feel compelled to do some inane research. Today's topic: steel magnolias. There was a movie by the same name, and I wondered what it meant. Here's what my exhaustive research returned:
If you are called a "steel magnolia" by someone, take it as a compliment. It is a Southern term that means a woman who is tough, strong, yet sweet and feminine. She has the toughness and strength of steel when it comes to family, hard times, and sad times. However, she has the loving tenderness and inner beauty that shines through.
I'm trying to think if I know anyone who qualifies as a steel magnolia. I do know someone who is a steel haggis. She's as gentle as a bouquet of heather blossoms, but when times are tough she's as strong as an Edinburgh rock.
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