Arboretum Diary

"It's the wind that makes them run away, and every poppy can linger at the edge of a furrow without worrying. They're fellow countrymen." Renard, from "Poppies"









April 23

The Magnolias we have to be thankful for.  The planter craves the spring bloom, but the spring bloom is quiet and quite calculating, each species having to draw itself out from under cover of the cool and moist and dead dark foliage.  Maybe a patch of phlox here, dames rocket inching out, even the dandelions biding its time until deep into April before it litters in yellow across the scene.  But not

Magnolias.  Big, bold, early bloomers that must share a hearty attitude that must sound something like the hell with it, we are coming and we will grow.  Magnolias are an extremely ancient species.  Because they do no depend on bees as pollinators, but beetles, they do not have to be so delicate in their beginnings.  Longenecker at the Arboretum is combined at the far east end by these courageous bloomers and their counterpart, the lilacs, which will wait another week or two thank you.  When at

their full peak alongside together, this part of the garden is considered one of the largest stands of curated lilacs in the world and the puffy pungent smell will push the unaware visitor back in their shoes as they get out of the car and start walking toward the purple deluge.  On sundays, when the Arboretum holds many of its family walks and programs, kids get to mill around the color, often feeling the pink satin on their hands, running to the next tagged planting, holding it up, yelling out its unusual Latin name, then running off to the next in a sort of random maze made by long limb and new colors which ward off the dull, hazy, sleepy brown of deep spring.