Maggie. I love Maggie. I think other than my children I have three incredibly special possessions. Three things that I would class as mine, they are mine and I love them. One is my once forgotten, now found, micro machine. One is my guitar, my lovely, once broken, black beautiful guitar. The other is Maggie. My magnolia tree.

I bought all of my three favourite things myself. That is why I feel like they are mine, they truly belong to me. I chose them, I bought them. Maggie was a Mother’s Day purchase, for myself. If you asked my children what I loved, they’d probably list lots; music, drawing, backgammon, chocolate and cups of tea. I reckon they would tell you that I love magnolia trees too. They might even tell you how excited I get when I see one in bloom, how I compulsively point them out. How they make me smile. How I cannot look at them without smiling. They might even tell you about Maggie who lives in our garden.

I can’t tell you why I love a magnolia tree. I’m not sure when or why my love for them started. I’m not a gardener, but I do love plants. I had wanted a magnolia tree forever. So one Mother’s day, when treated to a  trip to the garden centre, I decided to buy Maggie. 

I brought Maggie home and placed her in her big red pot. I couldn’t plant her in the ground, I couldn’t let her be rooted to one spot forever. I needed to know that Maggie could come with me, whenever and wherever I might need to go. So she sits in a big red pot. She has the corner spot of the garden.

Maggie grows slowly, you can barely notice how much she grows. But when she blooms, she is beautiful, small and beautiful and I love her. She sits in my garden and makes me smile. She doesn’t ask a lot from me, the occasional drink after a hot summers day. She doesn’t ask for much, but she gives a lot back in return.

I didn’t think that I wanted to write again, especially not so soon after my last post. But then I looked at Maggie. I looked at her with just a few orange leaves clinging on. That’s all that’s left after a wonderful spring and summer full of green leaves. She’s left looking bare, almost stripped completely. She doesn’t look much of a tree right now. But if you get close to Maggie and her few orange leaves, you can see lots of buds. Tiny buds, they are there. They are there reminding me that Maggie is ok. She might not look like a beautiful tree right now. She might look a little sad standing there in the corner. She just needs some time. Because in time, after braving the storms, the harshness of winter, the cold and the dark, after all of that Maggie will bloom again, she will be a small beautiful tree again, she just needs some time.

I love Maggie. She’s good for me.


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