The best writers in any genre use setting to create moods with a few deft sentences. Their ability to create moods through language is amazing given the many different ways memories are evoked in people.
Take the example of a blooming pear tree. February is winding to a close here in the deep South, and Spring is making an unseasonably warm appearance with the trees, shrubs and flowers blooming in swift succession.
The first signs of spring are the daffodils and the forsythia bushes, better known as yellowbells. Shortly after or while they are blooming, the tulip trees burst out with their pink and white blooms, and then the pear trees.
The flowers of pear trees are white and small compared to the large tulip tree blooms but they still show up because nothing else much is blooming and because they fill up the entire tree. A pear tree in bloom throws itself into the process. It doesn’t dally, shilly-shally, or shyly peek forward a bloom at a time. It personifies the verb “to blossom.”
Pear trees always remind me of my dad-in-law, who passed away in 2001. This is an odd association in some ways, because he didn’t particularly love spring flowers or pears. Like most people, he was always glad to see signs that spring was coming, but he didn’t rejoice in the flowers the way I do, the way that makes my teenage daughter look at me sideways and say, “Mom, get a grip.”
So where does the association come from? For the five years I was in law school (I went part time, three nights a week with two summers off), he and my Mom-in-law fed me supper every night I had class – and they were happy to do so. They enjoyed having me there. One day in March in the mid-90’s during supper, Mark’s Dad mentioned to me that he had seen some of the white flowered trees blooming in a field. He said they were dogwoods, but I was pretty sure it was too early for the dogwoods to have started. So I drove by the field that afternoon on my way to school, and realized that he was talking about the wild pear trees that had colonized the abandoned field and turned what would otherwise have been an eyesore into an attractive harbinger of spring.
I don’t know what makes that memory stand out, but ever since then, when I see the pear trees in bloom, I not only celebrate the nearness of spring, but also remember fondly a man who meant a great deal to me.
What sights and sounds do you see that trigger memories in you?
I love the sound of spring peepers. They start slow and unsteadily. Here a frog, there a frog, until they get their rhythm sorted out and it becomes everywhere a frog. FROG!
ReplyDeleteSometimes it is so loud we have to shut our windows to sleep.
Then the most amazing thing happens. They all stop. At the same time. An unssen conductor pinched his fingers together and the performers simultaneously become silent.
Bird calls: the song sparrow's sweet song from the Cape Cod dunes where it nests, the caw of crows at 5am, the incessant cheep of the English sparrow, the house finch's happy cheeping (they're already scouting nesting locations with temps in the twenties), the cardinal's trill, the nuthatch's and chickadee's beeping. Once in a while I encounter a mockingbird, which transports me back to Georgia, where I couldn't work in the garden without mocker supervision. Seagulls when we're near open water.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely tribute and touching post. There is a certain scent the air gets in the fall and at no other time, almost like wine, that says winter is on the way, but the weather is still wonderful, enjoy it while you can that I miss here in Florida. I cherish it in the north country.
ReplyDeleteFlorida has an electric scent to the air when thunder storms are on the way. It's harder to describe, the air almost crackles even though the sky is blue. A phenomena I've not encountered anywhere else.
And the sight of Queen Anne's Lace never fails to bring my mother to mind. She loved it although she called it a weed. She would always pick it and bring huge bundles home. I think it was her favorite flower, although she would name roses.
The smell of lilacs immediately transports me home to Pennsylvania, where every spring, my classmates, those lucky enough to have lilac bushes, would bring cuttings into school and church. Heavenly fragrance for sure.
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ReplyDeleteLike Jim mentioned, I love the sound of spring peepers at night. Being a little further north than you, the flowers are not out yet and I haven't noticed buds on my fruit trees either, but then I haven't had time to check them. Soon my daffodils will be up as well as other early perennials. I look forward to it. Soon my lilacs will be blooming, too. I have quite a few lilac bushes. And soon I will have to get my lawn mower out and start mowing my lawn. It's not a riding mower but one I walk behind turning it in the correct direction. Soon I'll be busy planting my vegetable garden and some flower gardens, too, as well as doing a lot of weeding. Because of one of the worse powerful storms we've ever experienced around here, I have a lot of branches down everywhere. I was lucky I didn't loose my electricity or anything else. According to the newspaper hundreds of people were without electricity yesterday, even a local fire station that was getting hundreds of calls wanting help.
For me, it's mostly scents that trigger memories. The fresh smell off the ocean as the tide reaches its peak; bread baking in the oven (or even better, gingerbread!); newly mown grass; the smell of baby powder, since it means the baby has been bathed, fed and changed, and is ready for naptime--finally!
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely post! Scents do it for me, especially the Christmas ones - pine needles and gingerbread.
ReplyDeleteWhat lovely memories all of you shared! Thank you!
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