Lilacs

I realize this isn’t exactly a wild-world phenological observation, but it’s a sign of late spring that we always recognize!

When I was a kid, the smell of blooming lilacs from the bush in our front yard meant the end of the school year. My mom would cut branches to place in vases around our house, so the fragrance permeated all aspects of my early summer memories.

But my most persistent memory of lilacs is playing beneath them: making holes in the ground with our tractors, and dolls and dresses with the leaves. Many, many farm kid hours spent under that lilac bush!

This past year, our love of lilacs was rekindled with a visit to Mackinac Island. Biking around the island brought the scent of lilacs on the breeze, though my 11-year-old quipped that they were probably planted there to cover up the horse manure smell. :)

If you need some inspiration to dream with lilacs, check out the book Under the Lilacs by EB Goodale. I promise it will bring back childhood memories of busy moms, older sisters, and outdoor escapes from reality.