I call this Mother's Lilac
But perhaps I should call it my lilac
For it's great great grandmother
grew outside the bedroom window
of the apartment my parents lived in
when I was born.
Before I was a year old, the perfume of this lilac's ancestor
perfumed the night air as it's fragrance wafted in and over my crib!
It's an old fashioned lilac
I'm sure it has a "real name" but I'm not sure what it is.
The very same lilac can be found in abandoned farm yards
For often that was one of the first thing a farm wife would do,
get a start of a lilac and plant it in the corner of the yard!
It's been here 20 years
And most years it does bloom
(the years it doesn't is because we had a frost, killing the blossoms)
Mother would never let me have a start as much as I begged.
"You'll kill it" she always said.
So the year that we lost her, before we sold the house, I dug up a start
and planted it between the drives at Linderhof.
The very next year, it bloomed. Just one blossom.
But I figured that bloom was Mother's way to tell me that she was happy
that "her" lilac would continue to grow.
My parents moved from that apartment when I was five,
And a start was planted in the garden of our new house.
We didn't live there all that long, but when we moved to the ranch house in the
suburbs, a start moved with us.
Just one each time -- mother wasn't greedy!
And I yearned for a start of that lilac.
For although I call it Mother's, I think of it as mine!
The flowers are perfection
And the aroma is heavenly
I don't cut all the blossoms for I love the smell of lilac whenever I go outside.
The lilac has some "starts" around the base.
One is going north on our next trip to visit Daughter Sarah
and her girls.
A fourth generation will be able to enjoy this humble lilac.