The humid air was heavy with the scent of lilacs yesterday. We've had a steady, gentle rain for days now, and it seems as if the lilacs were waiting for the water so they could bloom. They were so beautiful out there in the twilight with each blossom a mix of colors, and they smelled so sweet and fresh that I stayed near until it was dark.
A couple of years ago, I pruned them. The wood is very hard, with the sapwood (around the outside) a creamy color and the heartwood (in the center) a darker red-brown color. In olden times, lilac branches were hollowed out to make reed pipes and flutes.
I thought of the music those instruments might make: haunting tunes of lost love, or sprightly dances for young lovers? I remembered that lilacs bloom on old wood, like love that cycles back to courtship in a long relationship. It's no wonder that lilacs are a symbol for love.
There is a Greek myth about the Syrinx, a nymph known for her chastity. She was pursued by Pan, and was transformed into hollow river reeds so she could escape him. In response, he cut the reeds and made the first set of pan pipes, which were known as "syrinx." The genus name for lilacs is Syringa (probably because the stems are easily hollowed for use as musical instruments.)
Sometimes these ideas float through my head while I'm out there, experiencing, and I just don't know what to do with it all. I only know that it's beautiful and worth saving somehow, so I put it here. It was so wonderful, the deep blue of the sky, the wet spring green, and those heavenly lilacs, vibrating with color and aroma.
I think I'm going to make a bouquet for someone I don't like, and give it to them. There's just too much beauty and love in the world to keep it all to ourselves.
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