magnolia

my entire life i was an avid reader.  and i read really fast, so once i commit, i can plow through some books.

 

but then i had kids and my reading slowed down.  like, way down.  life was more about getting sleep than it was about staying up late to finish another chapter.  i have literary commitment issues.

 

while catching up on my blogs the other day, i bookmarked a post by joanna goddard of cup of jo.  (this one to be exact).  she asked her readers to share the most beautiful sentence/paragraph they have ever read.  she received 643 comments, y'all.  i didn't have time to read them all, but i was so moved by the ones i did read.  i want to revisit those comments over and over.

 

it made me jealous that these commenters seemed to have a well of inspiration to choose from.  i thought of all the books i have read over the years and of the ones i fervently underlined and dog-eared and high-lighted in my teens and twenties.  where are those words now?  none at my fingertips.

then yesterday, chris sent me a link (as he does) of an article he knew i would love (and i did).  it was written by frances mayes for garden & gun magazine about the scents of the south, primarily the scent of the magnolia (if you are unfamiliar with that magazine, check it out, like them on facebook.  every issue is a love-letter to the south: it's artists, the makers, the food, the music, the culture.)  and when i read it, it took me somewhere else, to a memory, to a similar experience i have had time and time again, to my childhood.  it is the south.

 

here is my lone contribution to the "most beautiful thing i have ever read (recently)" conversation:

 

"When I lived for many years in California, the lost scents of the South haunted me most. Anytime I returned, I’d find myself outside after dinner, listening to the screeching chorus of tree frogs and night birds, just breathing in the layers of sweet, dank, fecund air. To me, moonlight smells like honeysuckle. When I was small, my bicycle leaned behind a big mother gardenia against the red barn. Cycling reminds me of the cloying, decadent presence of those flowers that bruised brown when I touched the petals. I’m amazed when my scraggly daphne bush sends out heavenly blasts that no conjurer of scents ever came close to capturing in a bottle. Jasmine spreading around the front steps may be home for copperheads, but the narcotizing perfume rising to the porch compensates for that inconvenience."

 

read the rest here

 

it reminds me of when my friend sarah and i lived in colorado one summer.  we had to return to texas in august to start a new semester of college.  we were homesick, but sad to leave beautiful colorado.  as we crossed the texas border, we rolled down our windows to feel the oppressive heat smack our faces.  it turns out we missed the heat, that awful middle-of-august texas heat.  who knew?  you know what else we missed but didn't realize until our return?  cicadas.  sweet tea.  ceiling fans.  all of those memories steeped in your senses that you don't even remember until you forget.

 

thanks for letting me share.  i wanted to put those words here so that i could have them at my fingertips if anyone ever asks me the same question.  feel free share your favorites.  i would love to read them.

 

p.s. while the south is on my mind, here is one of our favorite songs from my favorite artsy-weirdo-southern-gentleman, michael stipe of r.e.m..  a georgia boy, an artist, a lover of all things new orleans... this man is my spirit animal.  lol.  enjoy.