As I was walking back to my room after class on Wednesday, I glanced behind Sadler and saw a plant that immediately made me nostalgic for my childhood home in North Carolina. Its vivid pink bunches of blossoms reminded me of summers spent climbing our crepe myrtle's branches at home, pretending to be pioneers, fire and rescue workers, and cowgirls. Crepe myrtles were an everyday sight in Concord, but I have noticed a rarity around campus. As beautiful and historic as some of our towering oaks are, a small part of me wishes the campus was littered with fallen blossoms from these bright blossoming trees.
Never have I seen a crepe myrtle in its infancy like this. The constantly peeling, light colored bark was missing, and instead was replaced by thin branches with little to no trunk. I remember staring up at the blossoming tree towering over me as a child, yet this one was perhaps a foot and a half in stature. Despite its lack of height, the blossoms are unmistakable. Still warm and sunny outside, the blossoms have yet to fall, and the plant looks more alive than most of its neighbors. The dark but electric pink contrasts starkly with the thin column-like rows of darker green leaves, which are so numerous they seem to be holding up the blossoms on their own.
It looks to me like a firework just starting to explode. Some branches have yet to fully blossom, leaving passersby to imagine what it must look like in its full glory. The branches splay out in all directions, spreading joy and nostalgia, at least for me, in their wake. Some day, years from now, this little plant will be standing magnificently tall and proud, exploding with blossoms, but for now, it is still a reminder of home, childhood, and the innocence of exploring the nature that is in your own backyard.
Never have I seen a crepe myrtle in its infancy like this. The constantly peeling, light colored bark was missing, and instead was replaced by thin branches with little to no trunk. I remember staring up at the blossoming tree towering over me as a child, yet this one was perhaps a foot and a half in stature. Despite its lack of height, the blossoms are unmistakable. Still warm and sunny outside, the blossoms have yet to fall, and the plant looks more alive than most of its neighbors. The dark but electric pink contrasts starkly with the thin column-like rows of darker green leaves, which are so numerous they seem to be holding up the blossoms on their own.
It looks to me like a firework just starting to explode. Some branches have yet to fully blossom, leaving passersby to imagine what it must look like in its full glory. The branches splay out in all directions, spreading joy and nostalgia, at least for me, in their wake. Some day, years from now, this little plant will be standing magnificently tall and proud, exploding with blossoms, but for now, it is still a reminder of home, childhood, and the innocence of exploring the nature that is in your own backyard.
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