An individual camellia blossom, say, in a vase, or floating in a bowl, is the epitome of graceful, insouciant chic.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
But if you come upon them gathered together, you are in the presence of a lusty, nay, orgiastic riot of attention-seekers.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
The white ones seem most demure. The best kinds of camellias are the ones you stumble upon accidentally. They always leave me dumbstruck. In Virginia, camellias are so abundant that people even shear them into hedges. In spite of being treated in so disrespectful a fashion, they manage to pull off the regal bearing that is their true nature. We went to poke around a rather dilapidated house (yes, we were trespassing, I can never resist a sagging porch) and we were overcome by the sight of camellias at least 20 feet tall, bursting from behind fences. This gives new meaning to dishevelment.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
Or just sitting in lonely splendor like a brooch twinkling against what must have once been a well-groomed lawn.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
I especially love the sight of what I think of as Trashed Camellias, the carpet of spent blossoms that pile up and rot away at the tree’s feet. There is something marvelous about such lavish decay. Camellias are a bit histrionic, it is true. All that Pink Trash makes you understand something about living hard and dying fast.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
In the mid-eighties, my then-husband and forever-son, 18-month-old Alex, and I moved to Pelham, New York. Come to think of it, camellias are very '80s, in a way. I was astonished to discover in the backyard a ten-foot tall Japonica, looking only a bit the worse for wear. I never would have known what it was if it hadn’t been for all those visits to Longue Vue. Denuded camellias are a shadow of their former party girl selves. This one began blooming in April, and kept going for a month. I pulled the ivy off it, pruned it a bit, fed it, and cherished it. I hope the new owner of my house understands what a treasure she has. Camellias hate to be ignored. Well, actually, they don’t even register that. They always behave as if they were confident that they are the center of attention, even if no one is looking. That’s quite something, if you can pull it off.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
Though these look a bit frowsy-headed, I admit.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
As to where to buy camellias? It partly depends on where you live, but you can do what I always did at House & Garden, which was to run down the hall to my expert in all things horticultural, Stephen Orr. Now you can run down your keyboard, to his blog; if you don't know it, pay a call. No matter what I wanted to plant, Stephen would know, or would quickly find out, the reliable sources. I intend to ask him about bulbs this fall. He'll know about camellias, he knows about everything.
Courtesy of Dominique Browning
