My magnolia tree is a pain in the ass

Uh oh, I said a bad word again.
And didn't I say that about BS a couple days ago?
Yep, I did.
My hindparts have been sore lately, huh?

Objectively speaking, my magnolia tree is a magnificent specimen.
It is huge, of a size rather unusual in a residential neighborhood, and quite showy.

But a pain in the ass.

The Magnolia grandiflora is the archetype of the grand old south.
It oozes images of antebellum gentility.
It has Tara written all over it.

It also oozes crap all over the yard, and this is crap season.
The leaves are thick, tough, and leathery.
You can't mulch them, and they NEVER break down.

The seed pods are large and hard . . .

(no, I won't go there. My mother reads this)

. . . but they are difficult to avoid during mowing,
and when I do run over one,
it sounds like gunshots under the deck of the mower.

BUT . . .

In the dead of winter, it's glossy greenness is a bright spot of cheer
amidst the brown & bare branches of its deciduous cousins.
My neighbors will come clip leaves to use in their Christmas decorating,
(because they last pretty much FOREVER).

In the summer, it provides shade like no other tree I have (and I have a LOT of trees),
much to my neighbor's delight.

When I go outside during it's blooming season,
the air is redolent with its special sweetness.
And when the blooms fall off and I mow them up,
the fragrance permeates my yard.

I can put my chair under its branches
(which swoop lower to the ground every year)
and have a secluded, cool, green haven to watch the neighborhood go by on a warm evening.
If I look up, the sunlight trickles through to paint dappled pictures at my feet.

Did I mention that I love this tree?