In the Back Bay gardens along Commonwealth Avenue, especially on the sunny or river side of the Avenue, voluptuous Magnolia Liliiflora trees burst into blossom every April. Although these exotic beauties are native to southern China they were first brought to Boston from Japan by sailing ships across the Pacific Ocean and around the tip of South America. This year the profusion of spicy scented flowers blossomed a good ten days early, around the fourth, making the Easter holiday especially festive and glorious.

The elusive tangy perfume trailing from the sparkling pink Magnolia petals takes me back a half a century to Mead Memorial Park in New Canaan, Connecticut, where my childhood friends Antoinette and Elise and I enjoyed timeless afternoons. In that idyllic landscaped park the extravagant Magnolia trees were clothed for the moment in billowing clouds of seductive flowers, dancing gracefully with the brisk winds of springtime. These flirting coquettes cavorted along the green lawns circling the duck pond where mallards dipped yellow bills into weedy shallows and damsel flies buzzed transparent wings refracting light with a snap of iridescent sparkle. 

As I idle along Commonwealth Avenue reveling in the smiling promise of spring a vague trail of pink perfume lures me, and I am compelled to follow this lead gazing up into the flowery world of Magnolia blossoms. There I spy three chubby putti emerging from brownstone masonry playing amongst rinceau garlands where exuberant birds chirp, claiming their space in time and celebrating the pretty joy of returning life.
   

My Friend, Mother Anne, related in her Easter sermon at Trinity Church that, “Easter is not the return of what was lost; it is the discovery of those things that Death cannot touch." This idea speaks to me of the continuum of abundance, waves of circling time filling up with life.
   

The walls of the grand old mansion are made from skilfully finished blocks of stone subtly textured with “mason’s marks,” the nameless signature engraved by rhythmic labour of hammer and chisel. These carefully chosen mauve coloured stones, formed beyond the time of growing things, are a pleasant shade harmonizing with the blush of the Magnolia blossoms; in the balance of time and space age complements the beauty of youth. Morning sun bathes the opening buds, awakening them to their brief but glorious moment, casting elongated shadows on the textured stone. Being very still, I can almost see the flowers opening and their shadows move - revealing the eternal progress of our planet orbiting around its exploding star.
 

This environment of cultivated rarity reminds me of elegant Chinese calligraphy having only hints of meaning seen in the periphery of my understanding, encouraging me to read my own story in the trails left behind as I go forward.

For a stroll In the Fenway and Backbay neighborhoods click here 

Running time 3 &1/2 Minutes  

Star Magnolia