Profusion

It feels as if spring was slow in coming, and even then it hasn't been entirely sure about staying. A long succession of chilly, wet, windy and gray days took over most of April, and snow was still coming in fits and starts until nearly May.

Small clusters of sunny days wove themselves between the dreary days, offering just enough of a hint of better weather that I did not give up hope that something better was coming--eventually.

When April rolled into May, the lilacs finally, slowly started to reveal themselves. They were two weeks late, but much anticipated because the week the lilacs are in bloom is one of the prettiest of the year. Had they shown up on time, the wonder of it would have been lost on me, because it was too cold to stand outside and enjoy the scent.

There is an enormous, bushy lilac outside of my bedroom window. I had been checking it every morning when I raised the shade, looking for any progress in the formation of flower spikes or the likelihood of opening buds. Just after May 5, the bushes leafed out and bore flowers simultaneously. The blooms were spectacular.

My neighborhood is a square mile of neat 1955 tract homes, nearly identical except for the landscaping. Lilacs are not particularly in fashion now, but when this neighborhood was first constructed, every home had to have at least one. Standing atop the hill a block away, I could see that there were lilac bushes everywhere, and they were heavy with huge clusters of flowers. Some are purple, some are white, but what is most obvious is that this year, the lilacs are intensely fragrant.

The spicy sweet perfume being put out by thousands of lilacs stopped me mid-step as I left the house a few days before Mother's Day. It floats through the neighborhood, a gentle scent that seems fit well as it wraps around tidy mid-century ranch homes.

The abundance of lilac blossoms and the pleasantly pervasive smell are special surprises unto themselves, but it is the fact this has continued steadily for three weeks that has been the true marvel. It's as if the lilacs have taken it upon themselves to apologize and make amends for a painfully dreary winter by providing an unusually robust output of flowers and fragrance.

A few days ago, this area got ransacked by 40-mile-per-hour winds that were unrelenting for almost three days. This only served to heighten the scent of lilacs in the air. Driving down the hill toward my house that first windy day, I saw dozens of lilac bushes shaking in the wind, waves of purple and white undulating along property lines like an animated Impressionist painting.

Today I noticed that the flowers are starting to fade and fall a bit. This means there's still a week left of lilac loveliness. A week. This will be the spring I remember as the year the lilacs were everywhere and they bloomed for a month--just when I needed proof that winter was most assuredly behind us.