Lilacs and Lilies
The heady fragrance of lilac is wafting this way. The neighbor's bush has grown so large and lush over the fence that it shades part of their pool. Every time I smell lilacs I am a little girl in Kansas, stopping in the sandy alley at the back of Mrs. Fair's house.
I don't know how old Mrs. Fair was then, in 1975, but she was deaf as dirt, rich as a Rockefeller, and sweet as syrup. Her deafness meant she couldn't hear the herd of mischievous kids on her wraparound porch chasing each other and leaping off it into her spirea bushes. Her richness meant there was always a jar full of treats at her house, and her sweetness meant that even if she witnessed my being rowdy, she never told my preacher daddy. She had a big, white Victorian house near the center of town, complete with magical turrets and surrounded by towering oaks and climbing ivy. I used to think that Jack (of the beanstalk fame) was perched in the south-facing vines at the tippy-top of the roof).
Lilies don't have any particular nostalgic pull on me, but my all-time favorite flower is the stargazer lily. Call me morbid, but I have told my family that I want stargazer lilies on top of my casket when I die. I love their form: confident, open, sturdy, elegant. I love their deep pink canvas striped with sparing white accents and spritzed with those adorable, nearly indetectable dots. (I can almost hear God the Artist saying at creation, "All right, just a few more dots here...and... Lily, you're done!")
Objectively, I wish lilies smelled good and cost less. As a gardener I love perennial flowers most of all, but hate to spend much on any one plant. I know you're supposed to plant groups of flowers for impact, not loners, but year after year I just "consider the lilies" and then sadly put them back in favor of less expensive ones. (It's at those times I long to be the rich-as-Rockefeller Mrs. Fair!) One year I bought one stargazer lily. It still gorowss all by its lonesome along the sunny border of my otherwise shady woodland garden. Impact is lacking for sure!
Both lilacs and lilies remind me of God's love. The lilies don't toil and fret; they know Who cares for them. Lilacs bushes are like a country church full of praying saints--fragrant offerings to Him. I want to remember that God does not get weary from hearing my prayers; they are as welcome a fragrance to Him as lilacs in spring are to me.
I don't know how old Mrs. Fair was then, in 1975, but she was deaf as dirt, rich as a Rockefeller, and sweet as syrup. Her deafness meant she couldn't hear the herd of mischievous kids on her wraparound porch chasing each other and leaping off it into her spirea bushes. Her richness meant there was always a jar full of treats at her house, and her sweetness meant that even if she witnessed my being rowdy, she never told my preacher daddy. She had a big, white Victorian house near the center of town, complete with magical turrets and surrounded by towering oaks and climbing ivy. I used to think that Jack (of the beanstalk fame) was perched in the south-facing vines at the tippy-top of the roof).
Lilies don't have any particular nostalgic pull on me, but my all-time favorite flower is the stargazer lily. Call me morbid, but I have told my family that I want stargazer lilies on top of my casket when I die. I love their form: confident, open, sturdy, elegant. I love their deep pink canvas striped with sparing white accents and spritzed with those adorable, nearly indetectable dots. (I can almost hear God the Artist saying at creation, "All right, just a few more dots here...and... Lily, you're done!")
Objectively, I wish lilies smelled good and cost less. As a gardener I love perennial flowers most of all, but hate to spend much on any one plant. I know you're supposed to plant groups of flowers for impact, not loners, but year after year I just "consider the lilies" and then sadly put them back in favor of less expensive ones. (It's at those times I long to be the rich-as-Rockefeller Mrs. Fair!) One year I bought one stargazer lily. It still gorowss all by its lonesome along the sunny border of my otherwise shady woodland garden. Impact is lacking for sure!
Both lilacs and lilies remind me of God's love. The lilies don't toil and fret; they know Who cares for them. Lilacs bushes are like a country church full of praying saints--fragrant offerings to Him. I want to remember that God does not get weary from hearing my prayers; they are as welcome a fragrance to Him as lilacs in spring are to me.
posted by Zoanna at
3:10 PM
4 Comments:
Loved this memory you shared. I could see the house and smell the lilacs. For the past two weeks I've taken two batches of lilacs from my parents and put them on the table and it's made the apartment smell SO SWEET! I just wish cut lilacs lasted longer indoors.
Well-written, Zoanna. I love your descriptions. Wish I had a lilacs to smell - they are my favorite scent.
Hmmm...I've got an idea that might make your wish come true, Laurie. Last month I made some beef burgundy and other culinary delights for my neighbors who were in a car accident. (The next door neighbors who have the lilac bush.)
They appreciated the meal so much they said, "if you EVER need or want ANYTHING from us, let us know." So, while I'm on vacation, just come over to my 'hood and tell them Zoanna sent you for a bouquet of lilacs! (Or skip the conversation and steal some while standing in MY back yard. If they notice, I'll tell them my pastor's wife did it.)
I have visions of the boys dressed in camo. sneaking into the neighbor's yard, all because your post made it sound so appealing. Your fault!
ARe you online on vacation?
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