Lilacs

Caught my first hint of summer on my ride this morning as the scent of lilacs and fresh cut grass brought to mind youthful vacations.

I grew up in Ohio but we always visited Wisconsin for at least two weeks after school let out. In front of the bedroom windows on both sides of my Grandparents home, were lilac bushes. We didn’t have them at home and to this day, the fragrance takes me back. We would climb the giant Weeping Willow, play statue maker, spud, and ghost in the graveyard until it was too dark to see. Sometimes, as the eldest, I would be allowed to stay up and play Scrabble with my Grandmother (who was a word wizard) and Mother. At bedtime we would camp in the backyard in the giant tent unless there were storms in which case we pulled our sleeping bags into the living room, interlocked them like a life size jigsaw puzzle – you couldn’t walk to the other side of the room with out stepping on some one.

My Grandmother was a great storyteller and loved to talk but in the early mornings we would sit quietly while she worked the crossword and the hummingbirds came to the feeder.

And you could always smell the lilacs.

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