It's Spring in Central Alabama, and the wisteria is in full bloom. Purple, fragrant blossoms draped from the trees in a wild explosion of color--a vineyard in flower form. It's enough to make a young dog howl at the moon, and an old dog chase rabbits, dreaming of the pursuit as he sleeps in the sun on the porch.
Most foresters are not fond of wisteria. In fact, they hate it enough to spend considerable amounts of money in attempt to eradicate it in commercial forests. It is regarded as a weed and a nuisance. Left unchecked, it grows rapidly and the vines climb and choke commercially valuable trees and shrubs.
But I am not most foresters.
I will tolerate the loss of a few money trees for a couple of weeks of mad beauty and sweet fragrance. It is the stuff that poems are made of.
Ah, sweet Spring in Alabama. If you're not here, you don't know what your missing.
Fortunately, my area of MS is a wisteria lover's delight. My neighbor has a lovely specimen trained, as much as one can train wisteria, in her front yard. We also have white and pink varieties. Along with Cherokee rose, which is in full bloom now, it makes a wonderful sight. I like your metaphor of 'a vineyard in flower form'. You do have a way with words.
ReplyDeleteYes, I know what you mean "as much as one can train wisteria." Like a zoo lion, it will attack if you turn your back for a moment or two.
ReplyDeleteIt is beautiful here, as in MS, but I am paying the price with the pollen. Not as much as last year, but it hasn't peaked yet.
Thanks for the compliment on the writing. You are always very kind.
Proving that you are more poet than businessman.
ReplyDeleteI think my bank account reflects that well enough, amigo.
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