One of the best parts of spring in my neck of the woods is the profusion of lilacs in my neighborhood. Nearly every house on the block has a lilac; mine is at the northwest corner of the front porch. The heady smell greets me each morning as I leave the house. In the evening, the smell wafts in the windows while we eat our supper. When the wind is blowing just right I can even catch a faint trace of lilac as I lie in upstairs in my bed and fall asleep.
The blooms and their scent will only last for a few weeks. But what a lovely few weeks it will be. In this world of instant gratification, I appreciate the old-fashioned lilac and its glorious blooms.
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