Memory is the damnedest thing.
This year is the first time in more than a decade that I’ve spent all Spring in Washington, when the city is (usually) at its best and most beautiful. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen much of it this year. The severity of the coronavirus became clear just as the famous Washington cherry blossoms were nearing their peak. I didn’t get to see them, because by that time, I was self-secluding. Been self-secluded ever since.
When I was growing up, we had a lilac bush in the backyard. It’s not the one in the picture—I found that image online. But, at least in my memory, our lilac bush was quite similar, except it was fuller and the colour of the lilacs was much more vivid.
Lilacs have a short blooming season. In DC, it’s usually around the first week in May, and I usually walk over to the Dupont Circle Farmers’ Market early on Sunday morning to buy a few branches before they sell out.
They don’t last. Within three or four days, they’re gone. But for a little while, the incredible smell of lilacs is one of the most wonderful things on the planet.
I stayed at home this morning. Maybe next year….