S. M. Bower (yo soy el pinhole caballero)
Magnolias ~ Childhood
VIEW LARGE - I was born and raised one thousand miles away from the nearest magnolia tree, but since coming South, for reasons unknown, they’ve become things of nostalgia. For those of you who are unfamiliar with magnolia trees, they’re always green, always tall and always full of stiff waxy leaves, always soaking up the sunlight, always soaking up the moonlight, always glowing.
I’m still not sure what the connection is, but they place me back into my childhood – way, way back – to when I used to run around barefoot in the front yard (and probably wearing Batman underwear), waiting for the ice-cream truck with my parents. They make me remember lying awake in my bed (probably with Batman bed sheets), Band-Aids probably on my knees, listening to dogs bark and cicadas roar. I clearly recall sleeping in my backyard “fort” with my dad the first night it was complete and smelling fresh pine lumber.
…the murderously hot, green, canvas Boy Scout tents at summer camp, swimming in ponds, caring more about the dirt in far-left-field than baseball during baseball practice (likewise with soccer practice), my cat, Tardo, the thrill of going to bed on Christmas Eve, my sandbox (aka “neighborhood cat litter box” – precisely what the sifter and shovel were for), my little brothers’ coo-ing and crappy diapers, being a maniac during recess, my mom’s badass station wagon, going to the emergency room because I put a bead up my nose…..it’s all there.
I did indeed have my own childhood tree – not a magnolia – but an oak in my front yard, which, still to this day, I could climb blindfolded (and most definitely with a Batman cape). There’s something truly magical about these trees – then again, you could be reading this right now, thinking “…..errr, OK, tree-psycho-guy”. Magnolias will always hold a great deal of currency with me; I had the greatest childhood of all time – don’t let the dark, contrasty, black & whiteness of these pictures fool you. Someday, I’ll figure out why magnolias tug at me.
Magnolias ~ Childhood
VIEW LARGE - I was born and raised one thousand miles away from the nearest magnolia tree, but since coming South, for reasons unknown, they’ve become things of nostalgia. For those of you who are unfamiliar with magnolia trees, they’re always green, always tall and always full of stiff waxy leaves, always soaking up the sunlight, always soaking up the moonlight, always glowing.
I’m still not sure what the connection is, but they place me back into my childhood – way, way back – to when I used to run around barefoot in the front yard (and probably wearing Batman underwear), waiting for the ice-cream truck with my parents. They make me remember lying awake in my bed (probably with Batman bed sheets), Band-Aids probably on my knees, listening to dogs bark and cicadas roar. I clearly recall sleeping in my backyard “fort” with my dad the first night it was complete and smelling fresh pine lumber.
…the murderously hot, green, canvas Boy Scout tents at summer camp, swimming in ponds, caring more about the dirt in far-left-field than baseball during baseball practice (likewise with soccer practice), my cat, Tardo, the thrill of going to bed on Christmas Eve, my sandbox (aka “neighborhood cat litter box” – precisely what the sifter and shovel were for), my little brothers’ coo-ing and crappy diapers, being a maniac during recess, my mom’s badass station wagon, going to the emergency room because I put a bead up my nose…..it’s all there.
I did indeed have my own childhood tree – not a magnolia – but an oak in my front yard, which, still to this day, I could climb blindfolded (and most definitely with a Batman cape). There’s something truly magical about these trees – then again, you could be reading this right now, thinking “…..errr, OK, tree-psycho-guy”. Magnolias will always hold a great deal of currency with me; I had the greatest childhood of all time – don’t let the dark, contrasty, black & whiteness of these pictures fool you. Someday, I’ll figure out why magnolias tug at me.