Monday, May 16, 2011
I think lilacs must have grown very well in Idaho. When I was a child they were in every yard and park in our town. They surrounded the playing field adjacent to my elementary school and I remember, in the spring, that I would meet my girlfriends near the lilacs at recess where we would scootch ourselves between the big bushes with fat branches of the fragrant flowers nodding overhead. We would close our eyes and inhale the perfume and giggle with the delight of it. I remember we had a way of folding one of the heart-shaped leaves around a finger in a way where you could blow into it and it made a whistling sound. I tried to conjure up how to do this awhile ago and found I no longer possess that skill.
One of my favorite things at our old house was the very old, and very large lilac bush just off the front porch. Unusually deep purple in color, the blooms were more fragrant than the lighter purple variety. (The white ones always smell the very best.) The old lilac was badly damaged in an ice storm a few years after we moved in and we were afraid it would not survive. Ray trimmed off the broken branches and it was a mutilated skeleton of its former self, but it did survive and looks better every year. I will miss that rugged old soldier that gave us such beauty every spring. I wonder how long it has been there. Perhaps since the house was built in 1914. I hope the new owners will love it as we have.
Today Ray went back to the house to mow the lawn and oversee some repairs that we are having done in anticipation of closing the sale of the house in a couple of weeks. The lilacs are blooming and he cut a bucketful to bring home, including some of my favorite deep purple blooms. The fragrance is intoxicating. Probably the last time we will enjoy these old-time treasures, at least until the lilacs we have planted here get a bit bigger. I hope we will have some of those deep purple ones.