A native of China, the mimosa tree is considered by some to be a pest. It seems to reproduce quite readily, and when the flowers begin to fade and drop, they can create a real mess. However, I have a soft spot in my heart for the mimosa tree, a fondness which dates back to childhood.
My grandparents, Grancy and Poosie, had a large mimosa tree in their front yard, right in the corner between the driveway and the sidewalk. When it became large enough for us kids to climb on, it also became a gathering place for important family events.
Each summer my Kisamore cousins would drive to Arkansas from Baltimore for a lengthy visit. As the time drew near for their arrival, the Arkansas cousins would gather in the mimosa tree, craning our necks and concentrating on Highway 24 to see who could be the first to spot their car. This was long before the first cell phone, so the wait was often several hours.
On other occasions, we watched impatiently for Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe to return from the state adoption agency in Little Rock with the newest cousin that would be added to our family. Aunt Mary now lives in Grancy's and Poosie's house, but the mimosa tree is long gone. I'm not sure whether it died or simply got too large and was cut down, but nevertheless each year when the mimosas begin their show of pink, I think back to those childhood days, and I smile.
Please join Beverly at How Sweet the Sound, as once again we celebrate Pink Saturday.