Andy’s Mom saved him a hybrid lilac bush before she died, and in the spring that we moved into our home it was one of the first things we planted in the backyard. Since then, it has slowly (and some years quickly) spread beyond its intended space, sending out suckers far into the lawn and resulting in new plants ready to be transplanted. I’ve established two more healthy clumps in other areas, adding to the pretty, perfumed merriment. Every time they come into bloom, I’m reminded of his Mom and her love of gardening – and of lilacs.
This variety has a heavy, double bloom – a fancier and frillier version of the common single variety, and just as pungent in the perfume department. A single stalk will fill an entire room with its intoxicating fragrance, signaling spring and hope and the giddy glide to summer.
Lilacs carry other memories for us – particularly of our Memorial Day vacations to Ogunquit, Maine, which we are returning to this year after being absent for too long. Their bushes were usually right behind ours, so just as ours were tapering off, we would head north and find them still in the midst of their sweet blooming season. Hopefully our timing will work out in a few weeks.
In the meantime, I pause each and every time I’m outside and anywhere near their vicinity. Stopping to smell the flowers is something that should be part of everyone’s life – and this week it’s a literal practice of love. A memory of Andy’s sweet Mum on this Mother’s Day.
