I'm a poet / essayist / memoirist/
journalist (in the sense of keeping a journal, not of working for a newspaper) and it occurred to me that a blog fits in with all that. If Montaigne, father of the essay, were alive today, he'd keep a blog. This is my self-portrait as frustrated artist who can't believe she's not famous yet. (And because it's part of my artistic endeavor, the whole damn thing is copyrighted. All rights reserved.)
July 2009
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
      1 2 3 4
5 6 7 8 9 10 11
12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25
26 27 28 29 30 31  

Categories

Archives

  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • August 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • May 2007
  • April 2007
  • March 2007
  • February 2007
  • January 2007
  • December 2006
  • November 2006
  • October 2006
  • September 2006
  • August 2006
  • July 2006
  • June 2006
  • May 2006
  • April 2006
  • March 2006
  • February 2006
  • January 2006
  • December 2005
  • November 2005
  • October 2005
  • September 2005
  • August 2005

Recent Entries

  • Criminal Gila Monsters Riding Tractors and Eating Artichokes
  • You might want to put a bid on this one tonight, ladies and gentlemen, because we are talking to Phil Collins's people
  • Sunday So Far
  • Darling Lily
  • Even East Coast Super Lefties Think SLC Is WAY Cool
  • The Vamp Ass Buffy Really Kicks
  • Bore vs. Gore
  • The Priesthood is Magic
  • Stunted and Misshapen by the Priesthood
  • Men with First Names and Sweaty Palms

Recent Comments

  • Mr Nighttime on Stop and Smell the Lilacs

Read These

News Feeds


RSS1 | RSS2 | Atom

Credits

Powered by
Movable Type 4.261

Designed by

« Who Killed Literature AND Criticism? Cultural Studies! (A British Guy Said So) | Home | That Which Is Evidence of Summer's First Real Foray into This Interminable Cold Late Spring, Being My Toenails »

May 26, 2008

Stop and Smell the Lilacs

Over the weekend I complained to a friend about some problem that's causing me anxiety and frustration. "I'm going to give you the standard cliched advice," she said. "You know: take one day at a time, and stop and smell the roses."

"Roses aren't out yet," I said. "I can't stop and smell them. Lilacs are doing pretty well right now, though, and I always stop to smell them."

I wasn't kidding, either. I love lilacs. I do my best to smell every single lilac I can find, because the sad truth about lilacs is, the blossoms are intensely beautiful to look at and to smell, but they don't last all that long, so you've got to sniff 'em while you can. Walking is one of my main forms of exercise; one particular route I often follow has several lilac bushes along the way, and I stop to enjoy each and every one I encounter.

I've noticed two things while doing this: 1) Some people seem to think it's really weird and roll their eyes at me, as if I've done something vulgar or indelicate. 2) Plenty of other people do it too--thank god, I might add, because it shows that it's not so very weird for me to smell a lilac, and also because it's really pleasurable and I don't think I should be the only one to enjoy this pleasure. A week or two ago, I turned a corner one evening to approach a yard that boasted two enormous lilacs, one white and one more, well, lilac-colored, only to see that the lilacs were already being sniffed. This couple had split up so that each of them could smell one of the plants. I slowed down, because although I have no hesitation about doing this myself, in public, somehow I'm shy about doing it in public with strangers. But as soon as they walked on I head straight to the bushes and smelled each one.

I got tired of relying on other gardeners for this pleasure, so a few years ago I planted my own lilac, past the corner of the garage, where I can still see it from the porch. I walk out and smell it a couple of times every day. I suppose I could cut a few stalks and bring them inside, but I rather like to leave flowers on the plants that produced them. It seems selfish to cut them. After all, they last longer if they're uncut, and then the garden as a whole is this pleasurable thing, not just for me but for others who see it.

Anyway, until we find a way to transmit smell over the internet, you'll have to settle for a visual depiction of my lilac, taken this morning.

lilac_1.jpg

Posted by holly at May 26, 2008 1:25 PM

1 Comments

By Mr Nighttime on May 26, 2008 5:00 PM

It's a shame you couldn't make it to the Lilac Festival here in Rochester last week. You would have experienced a "fragrance overdose." ;-)

Of course, with this cold that hit me this weekend, I can't smell a blessed thing, which really sucks when I have my morning coffee.........

Leave a comment


Type the characters you see in the picture above.