The Camellias

 

Our camellia bush is blooming all over the place!

I’ve noticed, on my walks, some of the camellias in other people’s yards. Nobody around here has white ones, though I know they exist because we saw several at Maclay Gardens. There are a few light pink, like the ones that fall over the neighbor’s fence—they are pretty and look like wild roses. I’ve seen a couple of bushes that have very dark pink, almost red, blooms. Some of the camellias have double-blooms (looking like traditional roses or even small peonies). But the overwhelming majority look just like ours, shown above: hot pink, with single blooms displaying bright yellow middles.

People do different things to their camellia bushes, and I think the nicest-looking ones are pruned to look like small trees. Less blooms that way, overall, I suppose, but the look is more elegant, like something in and English garden. I think I might like to clip ours to grow that way too. I’ll have to look up the instructions in one of my gardening books.

Every morning after I return from my walk, I circle ’round the bush to admire the new blooms and pick up any spent ones that have fallen on the ground. I read somewhere that if you don’t pick up the spent blooms, they can attract a certain type of fungus, which will then work its way up into the leaves of the plant and ruin it. So I pick them up and bring the prettiest ones to my kitchen, to the sill of my box bay window, over the kitchen sink, where I float them in water in two lovely glass bowls I have. Every time I look at them, I feel happy.

To me, the wonderful pleasure of the camellias is a perfect demonstration of Sarah Ban Breathnach’s ideal of “simple abundance.” There is so much I do not have for my home—no fancy artwork or expensive decorations; I’d describe our decorative style at the moment as “making do.” And that’s okay. It’s simple and cozy and kid-friendly; and the humble, fragrance-free camellias fit in just fine.