It is a strange thing how our paths cross and our life stories intertwine. Little did I know that being requested to make an image of a Mimosa tree in all it’s tutu-like splendour, would I find a connection to Edgelands.

I was asked to make this image by an ex-colleague of Mrs O who is a reader of my site and as is everything with this type of assignment it is based on timing. With all the shenanigans of the last few weeks I thought I might miss the opportunity but I took a reconnaissance visit last week and chatted to the owners of the tree and to get an idea of aspect. That day was a beautiful balmy day but little in the way of blossom was out enough to warrant exposing a frame.

The story behind the tree was revealed to me and as with everything we take for granted, it just did not happen to pop out of the ground there in Harkstead, it arrived via a very long and tortuous route. This tree was grown from seed brought back from America after the second World War, one of several seeds I am told that were germinated in the fertile soils of the southernmost tip of Suffolk. How this seed came back was as a result of the current owner being attached to the US Navy on detachment for VJ day, having been not that far from the bombing of Hiroshima. This young British sailor found himself back in America before wending his way home to Suffolk and his reminder of time ashore there was the emergence of this tree in the back yard of his home.

Sadly, he is not in the best of health at 92 and it was a pleasure to meet him on that first visit before he grew too tired to stand at the door and talk. He was looking forward to seeing the tree blossom and seeing it out on VJ day, both of which ended up being synonymous. Then yesterday morning I got the text that the tree was looking good so a quick check of the forecast suggested that if I did not get there on the day then I might have missed the boat so I kept checking as the day progressed and had to bite the bullet despite the breeze and get over there. Now Mrs O does not take any notice of the forecast but having worked at sea, the forecast is a vital part of my daily routine not only to worry about those caught out or working in rough conditions but also to decide whether I can work with the cameras of choice for the subject matter. Isobars, highs and lows all make sense to me.

So here it is.

And a closer look from ground level

And an even closer look at the blossom

For any gardening readers the latin name is Albizia julibrissin f. rosea.

I chatted with the owner in the garden about the tree and the wind and also of the Maritime Festival I had been at all day on Sunday. From that chat I then discovered that the veteran sailor had worked as a fireman on the very site that I began shooting the Edgelands series and the discussion moved onto contaminated land and the desire to build houses just anywhere without considering the legacy of our disregard for our stewardship or the implications for health in later years be it witnessing a nuclear bomb exploding or working around hazardous chemicals.

That is something I love about photography. I find that the camera, even if it does not come out of the bag sometimes, acts as a catalyst for dialogue. So is this photograph an image of a tree or something about the history of a man sent to war? A man who witnessed the dreadful destruction of human life that brought about the end to a war yet sought to bring home a thing of beauty that would serve as a constant reminder during his long life tending a garden that was once almost totally given over to vegetable production and is also the grave to a dear family pet. There are many layers in this image and 70 odd years of a man’s life are here that I am sure his family will see differently from what it looked like to what it has become.

The tree, just as in my original rusted corrugated metal shed at Cattawade is just the obvious part of the story. Reading the image should give some clues as to what went before and whereas I normally like to make a series, I think this single image speaks volumes.

I consider myself privileged to have been asked to make this and to hear the story behind the Mimosa tree.