The View From the Top...

There was an old Magnolia tree in the front corner of my grandparent's yard. From as early as I can remember, it dominated the view from the bathrooms' windows. There were two bathrooms in the house, and both had windows seemingly centered on this tree. It was average-sized for a Magnolia, with no remarkable qualities. It didn't really stand out among the other trees in the area - there were far larger and more commanding trees to be found all around it. I am not sure why I was so fascinated with this tree, but I do know that my fascination with the 'Big Pretty' began before even my toilet training.
As soon as I was old enough to get that close to the road without a sound tongue-lashing, I would play beneath its limbs and gather its cones. I considered myself doubly blessed if it were kind enough to grow a flower within my reach! Sometimes I would pick the flower that I just knew was a gift from the tree, and sometimes I would leave it, saving it for a special occasion.
As someone who was no longer a 'little girl,' but not quite a teenager, I would sit against its trunk to do my homework as often as I could get out from under my grandmother's watchful eye... Especially my English writing assignments, because I was always at my most creative under those limbs. When schoolwork was completed (though NEVER before! ;-)), I just knew that this, my Magnolia, had placed its branches in such a way for me to climb. I spent every free moment in the top of this tree. There were times, of course, when other matters were momentarily more pressing - a friend would ask me to ride our bicycles around the block, or my brother and his friends would need torturing for a few hours, but I always found myself drawn back to the soft, perfectly-positioned limbs and the beautifully fragranced white flower petals of the Magnolia.
My tree was cut down long ago, as its 'cones and leaves and droppings' apparently did not compliment my grandmother's perfectly manicured lawn. It was for a time, though, my own little piece of Paradise, right there in the middle of the city. I am not sure why I am sharing this right now, except that She has permeated my thoughts as much today as Her flowers' fragrance did my senses all those years ago and, as her flowers and cones and limbs are now just wisps of memory, they remain some of my favorites.