I'm in love with these beautiful blooms.
There is nothing like the scent of lilacs riding on a warm breeze. The other day it followed me all the way down to the barn. There I was, lugging a hay bale to the starving sheep and sniffing the air like a dog.
I never take our lilac blooms for granted, as they only appear every few years because of our crazy weather. Last spring our two lilac bushes were covered with tiny buds, and I was hopeful (what timing—see the link below to my farm photo from a year ago today), but a hard frost destroyed every one of them. This year we've been lucky.
On Tuesday I snipped a handful of blooms, brought them into the house, and arranged them in a neglected crystal vase. There's something about freshly cut flowers--put some in a room, and I fail to see anything else. The ridiculous clutter, the dusty shelves of books, the incredibly ugly fake brick paneling on one wall of the living room--they instantly vanish.
The problem is, though, that the stems on lilac flowers are more like woody branches than stalks. Even when I crush their ends so they can absorb water more easily they don't last long indoors.
Today I wondered if this might have been by design. If the lilac flowers have to remain outside, the lilac lover is forced to stop whatever she is doing, walk over to the blooming bush, and bury her face in the flowers. She has no choice but to inhale deeply—the kind of deep breath that instantly soothes and relaxes every inch of your being. That lets you draw in one last little bit of scentillating air, even though you know your lungs are full. You feel your head tingle for a second, and you wonder if your brain is trying to capture the heady fragrance and store it as a memory.
For how nice it would be if we could summon up the scent of lilacs all year long.
A year of Farm Photos ago:
4/5/06: The Lilacs Are Coming! The Lilacs Are Coming!
4/4/06: Babies Chew On Everything
WCB #43: Molly Doodlebug & The Cat Cabin
And A Sweeter Sheep You Will Not Meet