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Monday, March 26, 2012

Dawdling

Yesterday I rode with a group of women out to the lake, and during the ride, we passed some fully leafed out, in bloom lilac bushes. The sweet scent made me take a deep breath in. When I did so, fleeting memories of my childhood came to me, of living on a farm in Michigan that during the spring came alive with the scent of tulips, lilacs, and that moist, earthy awakening that happens when the soil warms beneath the sun. For just a second I was seven years old again, bending to inhale the fragrance of a silky red tulip, pulling a lilac branch close, brushing the light purple blooms against my nose to take in the sweet scent. And I thought of Mom. She loved lilacs. She created bouquets to set in the house to refresh the stale air that hadn't stirred during the cold months of closed windows and forced heat. Lilacs meant spring had officially arrived.

All around me the signs of spring are bursting. The crab apples, the cherry trees, and even my dwarf apple trees are in full bloom. The tulips, the daffodils, and the lilacs have joined in. Not to be outdone, my hostas are beginning to unfurl their leaves, and the lilies have poked their way above the surface of the earth. Hubby has even had to mow twice already. In March. Unheard of. It truly seems as if the very essence of life decided to blanket the city and the countryside to show just how powerful, how wondrous, and how glorious it is.

On the way back, my friend and I marveled at the beauty around us. Neither of us wanted the ride to end, so we dawdled. Everyone should dawdle.

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