I was saddened to learn
mimosas are highly invasive: rapid growers, they can release a thousand seeds annually which last up to ten years. Seems like desirable qualities along with lacy, delicate leaves, fragrant pink powder-puff blooms bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds pursue May through July, but, imported from Asia, the trees have few predators and threaten native plants. Mimosas feel like part of my history. My dear Aunt Marilyn had several gorgeous mimosas in her back yard. We marveled at their beauty as we traveled south on summer vacations as a child. Dad took a moving picture of one blowing in the wind, a snake nestled on a branch. At a farmers market, my second husband and I were happy to buy two mimosa saplings. We’d moved into a new condo on Mimosa Trail. Neither tree lasted, and the following Fall, lung cancer killed Richard. I’m always happy to see mimosas on the country road leading to Red River Gorge, one of our favorite places. Every year, I look forward to visiting the mimosa grove in the arboretum five miles from my home.
What some find lovely
proves hazardous to others,
tipping the balance.
5 thoughts on "I was saddened to learn"
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I did not know this about mimosas, Karen.
I love how you show their history with you.
And the forewarning here :”Seems like desirable qualities along with lacy, delicate leaves, fragrant pink powder-puff blooms bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds… threaten native plants.”
comes powerfully back in “What some find lovely/proves hazardous to others,/tipping the balance.”
Thank you, Pam.
I love how you move us inward with “Mimosas feel like part of my history.” and then the repetition and density of story increases until being released by the freedom of the haiku
Thank you, Shaun.
Wonderful complication here, both in terms of the information and the feeling. The haibun is a good fit.