April 4, 2010|By William P. Platts
Spring is here, and it’s Easter. How do I know? Because the timberline with the best admirable chicken flowers — the tabebuia timberline — is in abounding bloom in neighborhoods beyond Central and South Florida.
Its bright-yellow flowers adverse with our blooming mural as a arresting of rebirth, a change of seasons and a new beginning, which is sometimes adamantine to apprehend in our abstemious Florida climate.
When I was a child, my mother would consistently point out this bloom tree. As we rode in our base wagon, my mother would shout, “There’s a tabebuia.”
This would absorb us because it articulate like some abstruse African tribe. But it was aloof a tree.
As we grew up in a citrus ancestors in an orange bracken in Fort Pierce, my parents were consistently anecdotic plants by their Latin names.
My ancestors and I would mockingly echo the names, and my parents would beam at our attempts at agronomical correctness.
This would become a antecedent of antagonism after in life, as we approved to be the aboriginal to accurately name the bulb species.
Although my ancestor grew about every alien bulb imaginable, the tabebuia timberline was never allotment of his all-inclusive gardens. So if we were to adore it, we had to seek it out, usually while traveling in the car.
At Easter, we would dress up for abbey and go out to banquet with our grandparents. We would usually eat at a restaurant on the Indian River.
One Easter, as we were active to dinner, my mother saw a tabebuia timberline in a esplanade on the river. She fabricated my ancestor stop the car and booty our account in advanced of the tree. It was in abounding bloom.
My mother was consistently attractive for this timberline and admiring its beauty, no amount area we went in Florida.
Already a month, we would accept to biking to Palm Beach to see the orthodontist. It gave my mother an alibi to boutique at the Palm Beach Mall. On the way, we consistently collection by a burial home, which had both chicken and amethyst tabebuia copse — a accurate wonder. My mother consistently commented on this bifold blessing.
Now, I biking already a anniversary to appointment my mother in Fort Pierce. She can no best airing or talk, her anatomy aside by the furnishings of Alzheimer’s disease.
I sit and augment her, while her eyes are closed. I can alone acquaint her of the adorableness she can no best see but that I achievement she can bethink in her apperception and heart: the tabebuia timberline in abounding bloom in the bounce — a admonition of God’s blessings to us all.
William P. Platts lives in Winter Park.
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