Monday, May 01, 2017
Purple pointed cone of itty-bitty blossoms
Crowning the tree in the yard.
I break one off and bury my nose in its scent.
Instantly, I am twelve years old,
Walking out the back gate to the cow barn in June.
These flowers mean Wyoming.
This is from a lilac tree in Maryland. I was visiting there during Spring Break. I used to stop at this tree every year and load up my car with blossoms, take them to my school, arrange them in mason jars, and share them with my friends. The scent of these flowers are one of the quickest ways to send my brain straight back to my childhood.