Yearning For Purple

And getting impatient

It got up to 94 degrees (Fahrenheit) the other day but the lilac bushes still have not begun blooming. Inspecting them on my walks, I can see that they still have another week or two before the flowers come. It seems they begin blooming later and later every year.

I’m afraid a new ice age is coming. After all, every ice age is preceded by a short period of global warming. It always gets warm before it gets cold and it always gets cold before it gets warm. That’s what my maternal grandfather used to say. At least that’s what I think he said. He spoke a foreign language that I was not fluent in so I’m not really sure.

Once, for eighteen years in a row I used to cut lilac bundles and put them in a vase on the kitchen counter for Mother’s Day. It’s one of the things I did for Mother’s Day to honor the mother of my daughter. She would look at them and say, “That’s nice,” then never look at them again.

I, on the other hand, would stick my nose into those lilac flowers and inhale very, very deeply every single time I passed by them. I’m such a girl. I eventually realized that I was really cutting those flowers for myself.

Once I became single I kept up the tradition for a few years. What can I say? I love the fragrance of lilac. It’s an olfactory signal letting my noggin neurons know that spring is finally here. It’s an important part of staying connected to nature which, as everyone knows, is an important life pursuit of mine.

But after a few years I decided that cutting lilacs is rude and I stopped the practice. If I want to smell lilac then I should go outside to the bushes to smell them. And this is what I now do. By cutting them and bringing them inside I am depriving bees and other insects of lilacs blooms and that is just rude. Besides, cutting flowers can be considered a form of coitus interruptus, is it not? That is certainly rude.

I do a heck of a lot of walking. It’s almost like a religion to me. I happen to know where every single lilac bush is in my ‘hood. I also know where all the mulberry trees, peach trees, plum trees, and cherry trees are. I also know where I can pick fresh dandelion that has not been poisoned by toxic herbicides, pesticides, fungicides, and fertilizers. I’ve been drinking a lot of dandelion blossom tea with raw, unprocessed honey lately. Yum. (Great for the immune system.)

I also know where that little strawberry patch is behind someone’s shed along the trash dumpster alleyway. The people living there don’t even know it’s there. Those strawberry plants have been blooming now for almost two weeks. I’ve been eyeing them every day. My fingers will be turning red in a few weeks. While it may be rude to cut flowers it’s okay to harvest the fruit. It’s like sneaking some yummy while the plant is enjoying its post coital cigarette.

The trees are finally starting to leaf out and that brings me joy. But I am quaking with anticipation to stick my nose into some lilac bushes. Why is it taking so long? I’m going crazy here.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved.

Speaking of lilac, here is my lilac story from last year that is much better than this story…