My God, they are lovely. The white blossoms seem to hang independently of the trees when I see them in the forest. They look like floating clouds of lace.
The dogwoods are so prolific here in SW Missouri and the Ozarks that big tour buses come through every year, careening down highways in search of them. They seem especially fond of steep ravines, but I sort of think this might just be from past logging efforts that didn’t bother with that difficult sort of terrain, so the dogwoods survived.
Jon’s mom told me once that scripture says this is the wood that was used to crucify Jesus, and after that event, God was so sad that he never let the dogwood grow large again, so they’re permanent shrubs.
I love anything with a story, even a sad one. Especially a sad one.