"It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others." - Steven Wright

Call me for phone sex through NiteFlirt by clicking on the button shown below!

Sunday, May 20, 2007


My childhood memories of spring are driven by lilacs.

My grandmothers were both great lovers of lilacs. They had many bushes in their yards; white, pink, and deep purple filled the eye. The heady fragrance was sometimes dizzying. I often took refuge under the heavily laden branches during a game of hide and seek. I remember the petals invading my hair and sticking to my clothes.

The scent of those flowers would fill my nose and remain with me long into the night, even as I lay tightly tucked into a den sofa bed. The smell would waft through an open window along with the chatter of crickets and tree frogs. My heavy eyelids would fight sleep as I strained to hear the Pinochle conversation coming from the dining room. I drifted off to the drone of distant political discussions interrupted by occasional bids.

One of the only photos of my paternal grandmother as a young woman is her standing in front of a giant lilac bush. She planted a new lilac every year until there was no more space to add a fragrant bush.

My maternal grandmother had an obsession for gardening. Roses were her specialty, but spring was a time for bulbs and lilacs. Her lilacs were show-pieces, big beautiful bushes so full of flowers one couldn't see the branches. I would watch and listen as she bestowed my mother with her gardening wisdom. Unknowingly, I absorbed a green thumb over the years of visits to my maternal grandparents.

No comments:

Post a Comment