Dear Readers,
Do you have a favorite flower? Mine is the lilac, and judging by the size of the crowd at the UW Arboretum today, a lot of people are partial to this lacey, delicate, fragrant, pale purple blossom.
Picking my favorite
My son Patrick, knowing my fondness for this flower, wants to buy me a lilac bush for Mother’s Day but first wants to know my favorite kind from among the 1,000 varieties available. And so, here I am at the arboretum in early May during the short window lilacs are in bloom. (Perhaps part of the appeal of the lilac is that it only blooms for three weeks each year; we tend to treasure fleeting beauty more than we do the beauty which surrounds us all the time).
Since all lilacs are lovely to look at, I was convinced a quick sniff of the different varieties was all that would be needed for me to select a favorite.
Not so, dear Readers, not so! Surprisingly, it was not the scent but the sentiment which was the determining factor!
The first bush I happened upon was the Declaration lilac, but before I could lean in for a whiff, I found myself back in May of 1972 at the junior-senior prom — my first big dance with the first true love of my life — wearing a dress which was the same shade as this Declaration lilac. Such a sweet memory; surely this should be my favorite.
But next to the Declaration lilac was the President Lincoln lilac, and suddenly the words to Walt Whitman’s famous elegy called to me, “. . . when lilacs last in the door-yard 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.”
In May of 1865, millions of Americans lined the 1,700-mile funeral procession route, many waving lilac branches, as the slow-moving train took two weeks to travel from Washington, D.C., to Springfield, Ill.
Today, while driving in the countryside, the occasional random large lilac tree you find in the middle of nowhere was most likely planted next to an old farmhouse over 100 years ago to honor the fallen president. Surely, the President Lincoln lilac should be my favorite.
But then the wind shifted and, catching the scent of the nearby Common lilac, I was transported back to a time redolent of ritual and sacred tradition. It was a beautiful May morning in 1963; all 120 second-graders from St. Joseph School had lined up in the school building and were slowly processing to the church via a long sidewalk lined with what must have been Common lilacs — the scent was exactly the same! Surely, this should be my favorite!
The lilac species originated in eastern Europe, but French botanists, geneticists, and horticulturists popularized it and because they did so much hybridizing, they were given the authority, as spelled out in the “International Code of Botanical Nomenclature,” to name the new varieties they had created. As a result, many lilac varieties carry a French name.
One is the Ville de Limoges lilac named for the village of Limoges, internationally renowned for its breathtakingly-beautiful porcelain. I’ve always loved the French language, the exquisite French porcelain, and the delectable French pastries. I treasure the time I spent in France. Surely, this should be my favorite!
A kindred spirit
But then I stumbled across the Miss Kim lilac which, at first glance, is not any prettier than its neighbors and its fragrance, although pleasing, is not much different from the other varieties I’d tested, but then I learned (thank you, Google!) a very interesting fact about Miss Kim.
Miss Kim is a rebel who ignores the calendar and lingers long past that three-week window.
Just when you begin to grow despondent as it appears all the lilacs have faded away for the season, you round a corner and there, to your delightful surprise, is one last flowering lilac bush still holding up its brilliant blossoms, still strong, still wafting its sweet aroma. It’s a Miss Kim. She’s a survivor, defying the odds and hanging on much longer than anyone expected.
Miss Kim and I are kindred spirits! I have found my favorite lilac!
May your summer, dear Readers, overflow with an abundance of flowers, especially your favorites.
Linda Kelly is a member of Blessed Sacrament Parish in Madison.