New Hampshire Natives
Who doesn't love the wonderfully fragrant bouquet of lilacs, wafting on the breezes across New Hampshire, in the month of May? Always one of my favorite flowers (so lacy and delicate, in varying shades of one of my favorite colors!), each spring I eagerly await the budding of the lilac bush outside our home, transplanted from a neighbor's yard—24 years ago—in celebration of our first home and the birth of our first son.
There's nothing quite like sitting out on the porch on a sunny day, and taking in that familiar fragrance carried on the warm spring breeze. My whole family looks forward to this small window of time (two weeks at most—and early this year!) when we can throw open the windows and let the heady fragrance in; we hack off a few glorious bunches for good measure, and bring them inside, allowing their luscious scent to seep from room to room. It's a comfort, and a reminder—of family, of home, and of childhood memories.
I'm a New Hampshire girl (born and raised and forever true). When I was young, we used to sing a happy song about NH and lilacs at summer camp, which captures the feeling perfectly:
I want to wake up, in the morning,
where the purple lilacs grow;
where the sun comes a peepin'
into where I'm a sleepin'
and the songbirds say, "hello!"
I want to wander, through the wild woods,
where the fragrant breezes blow,
and drift back, through New Hampshire,
where the purple lilacs grow.
I couldn't have put it better myself.
