Lilacs

As I have walked from the Compass to the house the last few days, or have just been outside wandering around, checking out the clean up work needed from the winter's wrath on the flower beds, the scent of lilacs from the many bushes we have around our house has been drifting through the air (what a long sentence!).

Lilacs must be blooming earlier than usual this spring. During my West Central days, I would cut lilacs to place in a vase on my desk during the early days of May. Why do I remember the time? Because they always bloomed around my birthday, and that was a gift to myself--lilacs on my desk, scenting the room. My students were hit with the smell as soon as they walked in the classroom, and sometimes it drifted to the hall and those passing by would catch a whiff and comment "Oh..Mrs. Siemens has been bringing in her lilacs again! Must be spring for sure!"

The connection to literature? I always think of Whitman's poem "When Lilacs Last in Dooryard Bloom'd" during this time of year as well. What a powerful poem, and such a great tribute to one of our most well-known Presidents. Maybe that was part of the intent of the poem---to tie together a remembrance of the death of President Lincoln and the effect on our country to an annual occurrence. Maybe it was to show the cycle of life--birth, death, rebirth. Every lilac bloom that was placed in the vase on my desk had a short life. The flowers would be so fragrant and beautiful, in all their glory, for a day or so. The next morning I would walk in to find limp stems and dried up blossoms littering my desk. Into the trash they went to be replaced with a new bouquet. Such is life---vibrant and fragrant, then suddenly, tossed aside to be replaced. Sounds too pessimistic to me. I would rather think of enjoying the moments, looking forward to new life, and knowing that next spring, around my birthday, there will be more lilacs.