sign of spring #3 or, a tale of three lilacs

Lilacs. The word itself is pretty. Add the delicate yet stable physical beauty and the wonderful scent, and you've got yourself an old-fashioned charmer. They remind me of my childhood...grandparents...playing in Mr. & Mrs. Mace's (elderly neighbors I grew up next door to) yard that had no fence...and like Alicia, the scent reminds me of the Midwest--home.
One set of my grandparents always had a lilac bush or two in their yard (other grandpa would've mowed them down, so other grandma dared not plant any). When we went for a visit, I and/or grandma would cut some lilacs to decorate the house. The lilac bush in the Mace's yard served as a hiding place for frequent games of hide-n-seek with the neighborhood children. Sometimes we would just plop ourselves on the grass or cement wall next to that lilac and pass the time.

The lilac pictured above is compliments of a friend here in The Small Town. I'm currently trying to start a new lilac bush from a cutting off hers. The plan is to plant it near our bedroom window so when we have the window open during lilac season, a west breeze will send the scent into our nostrils at night.

The vase with the lilacs on it is an heirloom from my mother's ceramic-painting days.

The blue lilac in the painting on the wall was done by a friend of my other grandparents some decades ago. So even if other grandma couldn't keep plants alive thanks to other grandpa, at least she could see them on her walls!