Lilac Fever

I swear God invented lilacs as the cure for tattered souls.  Our late spring had me wondering if my favorite white lilac would bloom by July given it’s slowly budding branches.  My mom’s birthday was this past Saturday, and I usually bring a bouquet of lilacs when I visit her grave.  They were her favorite flower, although she was not one to fuss over flowers.   This year I had to whisper that I owed her.  I know she understood…most of her life was spent as a farmer, and weather was usually the final determination of success or failure on so many, many, levels.

Last night the sky darkened and I saw towering walls of clouds moving with a menacing stealth towards our house. I had just enough time to close windows and the garage door before angry gusts of rain battered all in its path.

There must be something magical about spring rain, or the ionic charge of lightening.  This morning I looked outside and my white lilac bush—mere green leaf buds a week ago—has produced blooms.  Intoxicating, beautiful, perfumed, blooms.  I did a happy dance and thought of Mom.

I intend to bring a large bouquet inside and revel in the scent for days to come.  Lilac blooms, God’s perfume…the best part of my day.