Here in the suburbs of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA, spring has been a winner. Flora began doing their awakening thing in the second half of March, proceeding to display their newly birthed goods vividly and abundantly as the days went by. I’m a big fan of spring, something that wasn’t the case till eight or so years ago, when I was roughly 70 years old. I guess I just didn’t pay all that much attention to spring prior to that. All I can say is that I’m glad I began to appreciate the natural bounty right smack in front of my eyes.
My previous story was spring-inspired. Thus, I was reluctant to follow it up with another springtime tale. But I felt the urge to do so, and I allowed that urge to direct me appropriately. “Head to Jenkintown and seek out its azalea bushes,” the urge said to me. And I did, depositing myself in Jenkintown, a pretty village located a few miles from my home, in mid-afternoon on the first Tuesday of this month. The skies were as blue as you could hope for. The temperature, however, was a good bit higher than I’d have dialed up if I were in charge of things. While it’s true I didn’t sweat like a f*cking pig while walking around Jenkintown, I sweated quite profusely nonetheless. I definitely ain’t into sweating, but I soldiered on.
Jenkintown’s azalea bushes, fully abloom, looked great. Though possibly at least several days past their absolute prime, the azalea flowers were loaded with color and bursting with energy. I walked along many of the town’s blocks, my phone’s camera at the ready. There were fewer azalea bushes than I’d expected to find, but certainly more than enough. I took over 20 photos, five of which accompany this article.
I encountered the day’s most amazing azalea display at the tail end of the hike. It was on a corner property at the intersection of Summit Avenue and Highland Avenue. I have no doubt it is the greatest azalea arrangement in all of Jenkintown. Large azaleas sit near the house, which is about 50 feet from the sidewalks. And their equally large, and larger, siblings occupy lots and lots and lots of space along the sidewalks. Man, you don’t get to see a juicy-red spectacle like this every day!
I began to think about my friend Jeff, deceased now for 16 months, soon after I arrived home from Jenkintown. That’s because he and I strolled together through Jenkintown on two occasions that I can recall, and probably more times than that. On our walks in Jenkintown, and wherever else we met up, we talked about a wide range of topics: sports, music, movies, politics, our personal lives, and plenty of others. Our interests overlapped comfortably, and our wavelengths meshed. I miss Jeff a lot. He’s in my thoughts many days.
Jeff and I spent time with one another frequently, starting in 2009, which is when our friendship vaulted from casual to close. I’d have enjoyed my azalea walk this month even more than I did if Jeff, a sweet guy, had been tagging along. Not everyone is up for searching for azaleas in flower, to state the obvious. Jeff would have been though. And he happily would have joined me in oohing and aahing over them.
I’ve said words to this effect before in Yeah, Another Blogger: you can’t have too many friends, especially close ones. I was a bit over the age-60 mark when Jeff and I became true friends, and he was a bit under it. It was around that same time that I made several more excellent pals, including Jeff’s wife Joan. Since then, though, no others have entered my life. This troubles me. I’m certain it’s true that making friends becomes harder the older you get. And I’m frigging old. I haven’t given up hope, though. I think it’s totally possible that developing another strong friendship is in the cards for me. More than one would be a whole lot better. It goes without saying, then, that I don’t take my existing friendships for granted. They are important to me, and vital for my emotional and mental health. Life would be dreary and unnervingly close to pointless without good friends.
Yeah, Another Blogger 
I’d never thought about this until reading your post. There’s a difference between a long-time friend and a good friend. Having long-time friends becomes less possible as we age; we don’t have the years ahead of us for a friendship to age like fine wine. But making new friends that can become good friends? That’s still possible, if a little more difficult.
My favorite among your azaleas is the salmon-colored bush. That’s a fabulous color. For someone who loves white flowers as I do, I can’t figure out why white azaleas are my least favorite!
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Hi, Linda. It takes work and initiative to make friends when a person is up there in age. And it takes openness too. I need to get on the ball!
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Oh my…gorgeous blooms of azaleas! True, ‘you can’t have too many friends, especially close ones.’
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I’m already looking forward to next year’s azalea flowers. Thanks for stopping by. Have a good week!
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So sorry to hear of the loss of your friend Neil. As we age, the losses add up – along with the grief. I’m glad that you are finding that the beautiful spring floral displays act as a balm to your sadness.
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Yeah, we come and we go. I’d have designed the system differently, but it is what it is.
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You are spot on with your comments about Azaleas, and the importance of old friends. It is harder to build new friendships as we age, but you sound the outgoing friendly sort of guy who others would be drawn too.
Jenkintown, is looking pretty marvellous in your images, no wonder you like to wander around oohing and aahing over the beautiful flowers.
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Hi. There are a few old-fashioned-looking towns in my area, and Jenkintown is one of them. I like those kinds of places.
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Hallo Neil; these are amazing photos. Those walks through Jenkintown must be so inspiring. I am sad to hear about your friend. Life seems to catch up to all of us. In the meantime, keep enjoying these inspiring walks, send us glorious photographs, and keep writing. Greetings from far away.
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Your kind words have given me a boost. Thank you!
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a heartfelt and pretty tribute to your friend.
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Thanks very much.
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What a touching and special share, filled with life’s true inspirations.❤️
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I appreciate it.
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The azaleas on that corner property are MIND-BLOWING, but the real heart of your post–the importance of a dear friend, and the deep sadness of losing same–is one that all of us must cope with sooner or later. A sadness that goes beyond words for even the most adept wordsmith. When I was 21 and a loooong way from such things, or so I hoped, I wrote a poem that ended with these lines: “Will you know the end can never be prevented; Cherish your friends’ faces.” Fifty years later, I cannot improve on that. Jeff was lucky to have you as a friend, as you were to have him.
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Your 21-year-old self knew what she was talking about. As do you all these years later.
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I have many friends – some of them I have had since grade school (I am 75) I am grateful for each one. They enrich my life. My husband, on the other hand, is a true introvert and although he has enjoyed various people in his life, he has no such friends. It concerns me – at this stage in our lives particularly. If something should happen to me what would become of him? He says I’m his best friend. And although that is likely true and is sweet for him to say- I would like for him to experience the joy of friendship. Alas! I don’t think that will happen. It makes me sad for him.
your life is richer because of your friends. I foresee more riches in store for you!
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Hi, Linda. Many thanks for adding poignant comments. I appreciate it a lot.
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This is truly something special — a share that stirs the heart and reminds us of what matters most, drawn straight from the deep well of lived experience.
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It’s very nice of you to say this. Thanks a lot.
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Until i met my gal I couldn’t tell an azalea from a tumbleweed.
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What you said would make a great opening sentence for a Raymond Chandler type of detective novel!
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Ive been immersed in Marlowe radio shows the last while. I guess i’m feeling the vibe on top of being a card carrying smart ass.
I was trying to snap a pic of a honey bee doing the rounds on one of the tumbleweeds (azaleas) in the backyard for you. Wasnt happy with the finished product.
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I’ve always agreed that making friends is harder when you’re older, but I always thought I was talking about “after college.” Or “once you’re married.” I never considered that it would be more difficult when you’re retired. Damn it!
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Yeah, it takes effort. Especially when you’re in my age bracket.
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Here’s to good friends and azaleas!
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Thumbs up to that.
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So beautiful flowers. Well shared ✌️
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Thank you very much.
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🙏🏼
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I’m sorry about your friend Jeff, but glad your memories kept you company on your walk. The azaleas are gorgeous!!
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Evening, Michele. The azaleas at that corner property are pretty amazing. The owners of that property deserve an award!
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The azaleas are absolutely gorgeous! Although I suspect your weather is slightly more extreme at both ends than south east Scotland, the climate seems to support broadly similar species.
Your comments about missing your pal touched me deeply, as I lost a close friend recently to cancer. I think you’re bang on when you talk about the importance of friends: one thing I’m really looking forward to devoting more time to when I give up paid work at the end of this month is going for coffee (or golf, or perchance a glass of wine or twain) with friends. I’m trying to build in two or three of these each week.
I consider myself truly blessed with the number of friends of both genders I have, and I hope you find more as you go along. If it weren’t a bit more of a schlep to get to Philly, I’d gladly walk amongst the azaleas with you!
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Hi. You’re a real good guy, so it follows that you have many friends. People like you!
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Neil, I’m also honoured to count you as one of them!
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I feel the same about you. We are long-distance pals.
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As we get older our friends grow even more important. Although, long term friendships decrease making new friends is still part of the equation. they may not share the history but the quality of life they to bring to us at this stage in life is still equally as important as lifetime friends.
btw, the azaleas are beautiful. Nothing like color in the spring.
Cheers.
Velva
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Hi Velva, and thanks for adding your thoughts. I completely agree with everything you said. Take care.
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