Blood once flowed on this rich red Georgia soil where I took root.
Some men fought and died on this land, other men saw
the beauty it offered with hillsides lined with color and the magnificence of trees.
Rains washed the soil.
Sunrises brought new life.
When I was the size of a door frame our nursery grew by adding plants, trees, bushes of colors, shapes, and sizes not seen before. Some spoke another language and told of giant bodies of water and forests of deep greens.
Chinese Fir and Juniper
Tea Olive and Holly
Redbud and Dogwood
Green is my favorite color, along with my sweet silky white bloom. My saplings have now spread throughout our land. Far beyond me, other plants sprout and thrive in the Georgia hillsides.
Azaleas and Camellias
Golden Bell and Yellow Jasmine
Firethorn and Nandina
As new plants arrive, grow, and fill our hillsides I grow even taller and wider and stand as a proud parent who is the protector and storyteller for the future.
Animals scurry under the bushes, birds nests in our trees, and make music for our leaves.
Warblers and sparrows
Rabbits and chipmunks
Hawks and woodpeckers
One day noise and shaking comes to our lands. Paths were carved up and down the hills, trees moved, saplings planted, seed spread where there’s been none. I watched.
Rains washed the soil.
Sunrises brought life.
Now mankind brought a new life to our lands. Spring was no longer ours to enjoy. Our beauty shared by others who walk by us, some touching us, nodding, and respecting; others who never noticed.
Carolina Cherry trees, pampas grasses.
Flowering Peach and crab apples in full bloom.
Tiny hummingbirds and bees.
Our stately size offers grandeur to those who pass us by. Once again the masses of people have arrived. They dot our landscapes like our nursery once did, in various shades of color, sizes, and shapes. A few are privileged to walk our lush green paths carved in the old nursery. Others, like me watch.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Gardeners and cleaning crews.
Saplings of white, brown, black and red.
Still I stand the protectorate of the lands, all these one hundred and fifty-years. Regal magnolias we are.
Rains wash our limbs and soften our soil.
Sunrise brings new life and graces these old gnarly limbs.
A year ago this week my husband and I were fortunate enough to check off a Big Bucket List dream, to visit the Master’s Golf Championship. We were only there one day and the sun shone through from time to time, but we didn’t care. The hillsides are truly lined with splendor given to us by nature and man’s hand in arrangement. It is worth the visit, and maybe someday we will return.
For more information about the golf course click on this site: The Golf Course