If the crape myrtle stands as a favorite yard tree in my neck of the woods, the redbud demonstrates what Mother Nature can do without the help of any landscaper. I don't know a soul who doesn't love this bright, beautiful harbinger of spring.
My favorite place for watching Mother Nature's spring show unfold was our hay meadow. Redbuds, hog plums, and wild roses graced the fence rows along the path from the house on top of the hill to the east end of farm, setting the stage for the open spread of grasses and wildflowers that was the meadow. It produced what my Dad referred to as "native hay" and I realize now that it was a remnant of the vast prairie that once covered this area. It had never been plowed and Daddy never grazed it. It was precious to him as a source of some of the best, most nutritious winter feed around, and to me as a wonderland.