Childhood memories revolve around this seasonal bloom
Back in the 1940s and 50s, nearly every home in west Elmore County, where I grew up at Elmore Station, had at least one chinaberry tree, and perhaps more, in its backyard and depending on owner preference, maybe even in the front.
The chinaberry tree (Melia azedarach) was introduced to the southern United States in the 1930s as an ornamental specimen and became the darling of landscapers. The tree is native to Pakistan, India, Southeast Asia and Australia.
The reason they were so popular is because they grew quickly and provided excellent shade.
The chinaberry tree has a dense-spreading habitat, attaining heights of 30 to 50 feet. When mature, a chinaberry tree resembles a large umbrella.
Back in the day, substantially more time was spent outside performing chores or entertaining family and friends, especially during summer months. The shade of a chinaberry tree made for a comfortable spot to perform routine tasks like shelling peas, knitting, whittling, gossiping or discussing politics and also a wonderful place for children to play games.
The ambiance of the spot was enhanced if one was lucky enough to have an electric oscillating fan or at least a cardboard hand fan advertising a local funeral home, with a picture of Jesus on one knee praying.
The advent of television and air conditioning changed that, and the tree’s popularity declined. Although not seen in many yards today, chinaberry trees may be found along fence rows separating agricultural fields, as if planted there by some bird stopping for a short rest before continuing on its journey to the next field.
We had two chinaberry trees in our backyard when I was a young boy. Some of my best memories occurred under those trees. My granddaddy, who lived with us, could carve a perfect quarter moon slice of watermelon that had been iced down on a hot July afternoon in a No. 2 galvanized wash tub, as well as any big city chef, or so we thought.
His skill was equally displayed in late autumn when he carved perfect sugarcane plugs to be chewed by the neighborhood kids, until all of the sweet juice was extracted. Marbles, hopscotch and other games filled long summer afternoons under the tree’s marvelous shade.
In early spring, after the leaves have appeared on a chinaberry tree, it produces a pale purple tube-like bloom with a heavenly fragrant scent much like Southern magnolia blooms. As boys, we could hardly wait for what came next.
The bloom produced a fruit that was about the size of a small marble and almost as hard. The fruits were popular for painting and stringing as beads, but we used them for ammunition in our slingshots. Our homemade weapon was made from the fork of a hickory tree limb, strips of rubber from a discarded tire innertube and the leather of an old shoe tongue. There was always competition to make the slingshot that could shoot the farthest.
We were told that we could shoot at tin cans and other objects but never at another person or an animal because our parents said, “You can put an eye out with that.”
We did as instructed, most of the time, but accidents happened, and if someone was struck by a wild shot, the resulting whelp didn’t go away for several days; same as the strict lecture that came with it.
In late summer or early fall, the fruit of our chinaberry trees matured and fermented. Large birds, such as bluejays and mockingbirds, devoured the fruit and became intoxicated, displaying strange behavior and weird flight patterns. Some even fluttered to the ground to recuperate.
We boys were amused and entertained by the bird’s antics and sometimes tried to catch them, but they always fluttered away; although – at times, into the side of a nearby barn. It’s amazing how similar birds and humans are.
I have a plaque that reads, “What we have once enjoyed we can never lose … memories, all that we love deeply, becomes a part of us.”
Those two chinaberry trees in our backyard at Elmore Station provided some great and wonderful memories for me and my buddies back in the 1950s, as they have become a part of me. I hope their popularity comes back someday.
I hope everyone has great memories from 2017 and creates new, wonderful ones in 2018.
