For the memories

There is a homely little plant in my backyard.  It isn't really a shrub but it is something more than a perennial.  It is the perfect example of what landscape designers call the 'wrong plant, wrong place' but nothing would induce me to dig it up.

I planted this lilac seedling in my backyard because I remembered the massive lilac shrubs of my childhood in Minnesota.  Every spring, when the lilacs bloomed the air was filled with the sweet perfume of hundreds of perfect purple, lavender, pink, or white flowers.  It was supposed to grow to 20 feet in order to provide a little shade and privacy to the downstairs bathroom window.

The reality is that the lilac is no match for our brutally hot Alabama summers.  My little lilac tops out at about 4 feet of scraggly stems.  I have managed to root a couple of clippings so I have three of these pitiful little guys struggling to survive. 

But every April, I remember why my lilacs are priceless to me.  Those little stalks produce about a dozen gorgeous purple blooms that send that classic lilac scent wafting across my back deck and through my open windows. 

My happy childhood returns for a three weeks every April.