Hang On Little Camellia

Last week’s freeze already seems like a distant reverie, a wintry angel that passed through to deliver a delicious chilly kiss and leave us agape with pink cheeks and crispy brown lawns.

I love those rare sunny days when the temperatures dip, justifying the cozy coats taking up space in the hall closet and helping me forget that most of the time it feels like we live in a giant sweaty sock. 

But 23 degrees is pushing my limits. Peering out at the line of icicles sparkling on my windowsill Saturday morning, I almost decided to skip the First Ladies of Georgia Camellia Dedication at Bonaventure Cemetery and make a blanket nest with the dogs instead. 

Positive this outdoor event would be postponed due to the arctic circumstances, I texted Sam Beetler, emcee for the event and the City of Savannah’s esteemed Director of Cemeteries. This dedicated public servant has been in the role a couple of years now, and it’s been wonderful to see the department thrive under his capable leadership, including the recent clean-up and reclamation of historic African American Evergreen Cemetery on the westside. Top position aside however, around our house he will forever be known as “Sam Sam The Graveyard Man.”   

“Put on your big girl pants ‘cause it’s still on,“ he chided when I whined about possible frostbite. Then he became stern:

 “And by the way, there will be no stealing of the camellias, I’ll be watching you!”

What can I say, he knows me well. Winter is indeed the prime hunting season for The Camellia Thief, and some of my best stalking is done in the city’s bounteous public spaces. 

But I was more concerned about the pretty petals closer to home. Like many of y’all with your yards full of mummified shrubbery, I’d spent the previous afternoon shrouding our precious plants in old bedding to protect them from the ruinous chill. (Pro tip: Fitted sheets fit perfectly for this purpose.) 

I particularly fretted over my favorite camellia sasanqua right outside my front door, festooned with tight red buds that I feared would shrivel up in the freeze and drop like dead flies, never to unfurl their majestic glory.