I love lilacs.
I don't have a lilac bush at this house. But I don't need one. The kids next door have a huge bush of them and they crowd my driveway. I walk down the wrong side of the driveway to get my mail so I can bury my face in the fragrant branches as I go by. I love coming home and getting out of my car and the essence fills the air. Mmmmm, wonderful!
I inhaled deeply as I stepped from my car yesterday: mmmm mmmmy gawd! What the heck? It was the most disgusting blend of aromas: lilacs and rotten septic. Filth and foul, it was baaad!
The neighbours have chosen this select precious 2 week bloom period to replant their lawn and have covered their front yard and all along my driveway with the contents of the city sewer lines. Actually Albert tells me that the layer of new earth is emitting the same smell that the composting site at the garbage dump does, but I'm not so sure.
Rather than miss out altogether on lilac season, I have chosen to pluck a few blossoms from the tree and bring them in the house with me each time I pass by the tree.
The new grass had better sprout in a great big hurry or tree will become lopsided with no more branches our side of the tree as far up as I can reach.
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