Spring Blooms, by Damian, made me think of Bert Newton and the white magnolia tree.
When my daughter and son were little, my father went to the local nursery and asked for a tree that he could grow in the centre of the backyard, so that when his grandchildren were older, they would come and sit with ‘Oma’ and "Opa’, under the shade of this tree.
My father grew up in the centre, of Gouda, in a café, the Dutch version of an English pub. Not a blade of grass anywhere nearby and he never did know anything about plants.
Unfortunately, he was sold a climber and one that is, in some places apparently, not allowed, because it spreads so rapidly. It certainly took over the back yard. (With Google-earth, it is really easy to spot.)
Rather than sitting under the shade of an ‘oak’, or ‘magnolia tree’, my children, when in their teens, DID have a lot of fun with it.
Whenever they visited in spring and summer they bashed it with sticks and ‘made it snow’ (seeds).
Fortunately, even by then, my parents no longer ventured into the backyard.
I know! I know! I’m showing my age but I DO so remember Bert Newtown putting out that record. Just like I remember one by John Laws, even earlier, about not being led into temptation, or something.