Lilacs seem to carry childhood memories with them for many people, and I am no exception. It is the scent that instantly and singularly brings me back to a very specific suite of childhood recollections, starting with the sight of them over a neighbors fence. There was a large stand of them in all sorts of shades – from the deepest purple to the traditional lilac, and a few creamy white ones as well. They would fill the yard with their perfume, which drifted over to our side, and I distinctly remember a feeling of envy as I craved to be closer to their tantalizing fragrance.
After growing a glorious double-flowered hybrid in our back and side yards over the past few years, I recently planted the traditional old-fashioned variety, which has spread into a sizable path by the driveway and is the first of the lilacs to bloom.
No matter what I’m doing, no matter what kind of day I’ve had, I always pause to smell the lilacs when they come into bloom. I pause, and I remember, and the joy of spring always comes back.
