Sue and I just got back from an afternoon drive around Denver; spring has arrived here in Denver several weeks early. Usually the peak time for Lilacs is mid-May, and it is still early April. That probably portends a hot summer and a long fire season; let’s hope that’s not the case.

Anyway, back to the drive around Denver. One of our stops was City Park. Between the lake and the Nature & Science museum, there is a lovely grove of lilac bushes, with a large range of colors and varieties. Lilacs grow well here in Denver–they can survive our normally cold winters and our frequent droughts.

I have long loved lilacs as does Sue. I used to be able to luxuriate in their smell as well as their blossoms, but sometime during the Covid Pandemic, I lost most of my sense of smell. It is not completely gone, but these days, I can only detect a slight scent of most aromas that I used to enjoy–like lavender, lilacs and baking bread.

Lilacs always remind me of our dear friend, Marie Funkhauser–perhaps the kindest and most helpful neighbor one could ever have. We lived next door to Marie and her family in Alexandria, VA for more than 25 years. She took care of Bryn and Erin when thy came home from school. We knew that the children were always safe and lovingly cared for, making our work lives just a little bit less stressful.

Each spring, Marie would cut a huge bouquet of lilacs from the bushes in her backyard and bring them to Sue; the whole house would be filled with the aroma of lilacs for many days. What a lovely memory…and what a lovely friend.

Lilacs also bring to mind the first stanza of Walt Whitman’s tribute to the fallen Abraham Lincoln:

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d, 

And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night, 

I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring. 

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring, 

Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, 

And thought of him I love.