If you're from Iowa, then you know that lilac season is fleeting. The sweet little lilac bubs start appearing early May, right around prom and the air is delightfully filled with the most lovely of scents and then it's gone. Truly, just like that. And we are left with an array of other blooms and scents and yet, we are still trying to capture that lilac moment. We open candle jars and inhale deeply, only to replace the lid and say, no, that's not quite right. And we browse the soap and lotion makers at the farmer's markets, hoping. And all the while, we know that the lilac season can never be quite captured again.
Much like the little people dancing on my deck this gorgeous Monday morning. We have a record playing, and there is a parade of toy dinosaurs watching the performance and we are excited for the day to get warmer so we can play in the sprinkler and this is another lilac season.
The oldest grand will be starting preschool in the fall. She is ready to bloom and blossom. She will grow and be beautiful and enrich the world, but I know that our lilac season will be over. The sweet scent of her sweaty little noggin after naps, the sticky cheeks after a mickey waffle breakfast, the deep squats in the middle of a stroll to study the path of an ant. These moments, these lilacs are fading.
And we have been so lucky to have this extended season. We have spent three to four days a week with these blooms since nearly the beginning. We are just down the road, not across the state, or country, or ocean. We have been able to enjoy every aspect of this season and we will continue to be present for each season that comes. But I know these days are something extra special and I am really trying to soak up this summer, these magnificent moments which right now include eating blue suckers and while watching a big ant traverse the sticks on the deck while listening to Disney music while the dinosaurs keep watch.
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