lilac scented night

Gentle reader, it is May. Have you ever experienced May in Minnesota, or anywhere there are lilacs? Oh, the LILACS! I am a deep lover of the second and third weeks of May for the sake of two things: Lilacs, and crab apple blossom. I grew up in a house with a huge, pink crab apple tree smack in the middle of the front yard. In the spring, I would go out and cut branches heavy with bright pink, fragrant blossoms and put them in glasses in the house. I tucked sprays of it behind my ears. I carried it around with me.

There were lilac bushes outside my high school, and in the last weeks of classes, every room had at least three girls with stolen spikes of purple or white tucked into their hair, their pockets, or their books.

Lilac is not a shy scent. Neither is crab apple. They are heavy and cloying in small rooms, but out there, tonight, in the cool spring rain, they are the scent of heaven.

In his little bed, my boy is sleeping. Today, my first graders performed their play, and it was gorgeous and chaotic and somehow cohesive and coherent. My partner and I across the room from one another, typing at our respective machines, and I am thanking God for lilacs and crab apple trees, for children and strong tea, and for soft rain.

Blessings on your night.