The week that was...
May 1 - May 6, 2013
Project 52 (18/52)
Lilacs have always been my favorite flower. And when I say "always" I mean since the spring of 1967 (that's like being a next door neighbor to "always" for me). That was the first spring after my family moved to the corner of Division and Greyhorse Roads in Willow Grove. I was in second grade. Ironically, I never understood WHY they called in "Willow" Grove. Because on Greyhorse Road there were a whole bunch of sweet smelling purple flowered bushes lining the Kornfeld's property. I had no idea WHAT they were. But I knew they weren't Willows and they smelled WONDERFUL. I vividly remember walking to the Kornfeld's one day with my mom, and I asked her what those flowers were. And finally, I could put a name to the buds that would become my most favorite-est flower evahhhh....Lilacs.
The Better Half knows my love of lilacs. A couple of years ago for Mother's Day, he planted three lilac bushes outside the windows of our sun room. One lilac for each of our three Things. Strategically placed so that when I open up the windows, the sweet and unique smell of lilacs would float into our home. Probably one of my best Mother's Day gifts evahhhh. I would like to point out the fact that the original three lilac bushes didn't quite "make it". They had to be replaced. Which I swear has NOTHING to do with all the times I've threatened to "replace" my Things when I felt I just wasn't gonna "make it" myself due to motherhood. But I have to admit, it's kinda ironic.
Last week was the first bloom on my lilacs for the year. Funny how certain smells can instantly transport you to another place and time. The aroma of a lilac whisks me off to a time of skinned knees, Chinese jump ropes, Giant Sweet Tarts and Pixie Sticks, epic Kick Ball games, baseball cards clothes-pinned to the spokes of my blue Schwinn bike, Greyhorse Road...and the Kornfelds.
Ironically, the inability to identify smells can be one of the first signs of Alzheimer's. Ironic because my dad passed of Alzheimer's this past December. I'm not sure if he experienced this particular symptom. If he did, THAT would also be ironic because we often gave him a hard time for his SUPER schnozzola abilities. That man could sniff out a gas leak from ten miles away. I've inherited much from my Pops. My Better Half often gives me a hard time for my ability to identify aromas. To smell things no one else within the County can smell.
You know what else is ironic? Lilacs is on the list of "If you can't identify this smell you just MIGHT have Alzheimer's". Not like I need any shove to be freaked out about the possibility of sharing yet another thing with my dad. But yes, lilacs is on that list (actually, so is natural gas). Ironic how something so tied to my memories, is also tied to a disease that robs one of their memories...and my dad.
Sometimes ya just gotta laugh at life's little ironies. Otherwise, you'll cry. The good news? I TOTALLY know and recognize the smell of lilacs. Whew. Natural gas? Yep, got that one nailed too. I owe THAT one totally to my dad. No irony there.