Two years ago I went to the local camellia show. This was right before the shutdown that was the starting line of the pandemic in these parts. In a sudden burst of activity I went to the Japanese Internment film festival, ate lunch with a friend from high school, had dinner with miss wartz (which was the inaugural togetherness of our pandemic times, which is now over due to lack of interest on her part, I think) and I went to the camellia show. It was kinda awkward, but interesting, and I looked forward to going to the show again when pandemic times were over.
OK, so they may never be over, but I wrote to the camellia people, confirmed that the show was on for this weekend, and went on over there. It was *exactly* as awkward as last time. I sat on a chair near the far wall, and listened as the guy I'd been emailing with performed a recitation of the national judging guidelines for the other camellia people. I was easily the youngest person there. After hearing about whether or not you could enter sports or not, which seemed to be the end of the recitation, they all broke for donuts and I broke for the camellias. So much beauty in one place!
Before I go on, I would like to say that I have had a conversion about my own camellias. I know I love the camellias from our old house, which were gorgeous beyond belief, but I've also come around to the beauty of our current trees. This is our girl. She has swirly pink petals, and I've come to love her. She has been blooming like crazy this season, which is a first.
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