Every spring, I am re-amazed at pink magnolia trees. I wish I knew more about plants, so I could tell you the correct latin name of different magnolias species, but alas, my magnolia knowledge is limited. What I do know is that in San Francisco, where I grew up, we have magnolias, but the leaves come first, and then, on each tree every month or so, you might get one, and if you’re lucky, maybe two, handsome, giant white magnolias. (According to Wikipedia, these kinds of magnolias–leaves first, flowers second–are known as the Magnolia subgenus Magnolia.) They’re magnificent, but kind of snooty. Like, here, aren’t we perfect? Here’s our one giant flower. Appreciate it, fool.
The first year I lived in New York, I remember being stunned by the pink magnolia trees at school. San Francisco, due to our mild climate and a city-wide pride in ecological gardening, really does not put on a good flower show in the spring. (Drought-resistant shubbery, yes.) The penninsula does, I know, export roses and gardenias, but the city is too cold for those to flourish. But when I saw that first pink magnolia tree, surrounded by daffodils in the quad, I felt a mad crazy love for New York. I didn’t even know such a frilly, fancy, all-flower-and-no-leaf tree could even exist, and it made me feel so happy to be living in the city. (Magnolias that display flowers first, leaves second, are Magnolia subgenus Yulania, or so says Wikipedia.)
I’ve lived in New York for over ten years, and every spring, I am still filled with amazement at the pink magnolia trees. It’s like nature puked up the chicest, girliest plant ever. (I like cherry, dogwood, and pear trees too, but the pink magnolias are the bestest.)
(These flower photos were taken outside of the Central Park Zoo. Some BSC fans might remember the Central Park zoo as a crucial setting for BSC # 18. It is disturbing how much I have retained from the BSC.)
*I started feeling bad about calling the Ugly Sock the Ugly Sock. Not that it has feelings, but I have decided to call it by its given name, Spring Sock, rather than its unfortunate nickname, Ugly Sock.