Lacey Middlestead is a Montana native and freelance writer currently living in Helena, Mont. She loves meeting new people and helping share their stories. When she’s not busy writing articles for newspapers like the Independent Record and Helena Vigilante, she can usually be found indulging in her second greatest passion–playing in the Montana wilderness. She loves skiing and snowmobiling in the winter and four wheeling, hiking, boating, and riding dirt bikes in the summer.
For me, one of the earliest signs of summer is always that first whiff of lilacs drifting through the air. I often catch it while I’m out driving with my windows rolled down on one of the first warm days of the year. There usually isn’t even a lilac bush or tree in sight when I notice it, but the scent is undeniable. As I breathe in the heavenly aroma a smile slowly draws across my face in realizing that summer is just around the corner.
Lilacs, right along with sunflowers, rank as one of my favorite of all flowers. What’s not to love?! They have that intoxicating aroma that extends far beyond their blooms—the kind that just makes you want to bury your face in a clump of them until you’ve sucked up every last ounce of their scent. Lavender may be known for its calming effects, but the scent of lilacs is what truly brings peace to my mind and body. Lilacs dazzle in shades of purple ranging from a tint of periwinkle to a deep royal fig color. Then of course there’s the rarer white lilacs that stun with a simple innocence.
Every year I seem to keep finding myself waiting for the lilacs to bloom. I carefully watch the trees at my parents’ house, practically willing the dawdling buds to burst open already. I think, perhaps, one of the reasons I love lilacs so much is that they always make me think about my grandparents.
My grandparent’s yard always seemed like the size of an entire forest to me growing up. Between running around with their German shepherds, feeding the goldfish in the pond they used to have, jumping in piles of leaves my grandpa had just raked or tearing about on my little red Suzuki 50 four-wheeler, I was always outside playing when I came to visit them. I think I was actually first introduced to lilacs in their yard which has at least big lilac trees in it—a few purple and one white.
I don’t remember how old I was, maybe 9 or 10, but one day my grandparents told me they had got a lilac bush for me to plant in their yard. I was ecstatic! I had never really planted anything before and I couldn’t imagine anything better than planting something as beautiful as a lilac bush. So one afternoon they helped me a dig a hole in their yard next to their garage to drop the little bush into. I remember feeling so proud that day at the thought that this living and breathing creature would be there for years to come and would always hold a piece of me and my grandparents in it.
A few years after planting my tree, my grandparents planted another lilac bush—right next to mine—for my cousin Samantha. As the years have gone by I’ve nearly forgotten about my little bush that has silently matured and stretched taller with age. I guess it’s because I’m so much older now and don’t spend my visits to my grandparents’ house playing about in their yard. For reasons I can’t explain, this year’s blooming of the lilacs made me think of my little bush and how I need to go and visit it.
My cousin Samantha and I are so busy these days and don’t get around to visiting our grandpa and grandma as often as I know they’d like. But I like to think that on days when they’re missing us they may pass by our bushes and feel close to us even though we too have sprouted and gone our own wild ways. And whenever I see a lilac tree or snag its scent on the breeze, I know I will always think of my grandparents and the love they have always given.
