Spring Light

Lilac bud reaches
still, far from home, years gone by
since it traveled west.

About 25 years ago, on one of her visits to Seattle, where I was living at that time, my mother brought a tiny precious gift -- a cutting from one of the lilac bushes at the family home, Battlemont, in southwest Virginia. Her mother and several earlier generations had lived there, my mother was often there as a child, and I spent a wonderful week there almost every summer of my childhood.

I planted the little cutting, and it slowly put on some growth, but never had any flowers. Years went by; a marriage ended, and a new one prospered. After moving to Bellingham and establishing some garden beds here, Phil and I decided to move the little lilac plant north.

We planted it in the front yard, but it didn't do well there either. Every spring handsome leaves would emerge, but then they'd develop an unsightly brown blight, which didn't kill the plant, but definitely stunted it. I was ready to give up on it, but Phil said we should give the lilac another chance, so we moved it to a sunnier, more open area of the back yard last summer.

No matter how the lilac plant looks, we'll keep it. Our visit to Battlemont in 2012 returned me to my roots, and the little lilac is part of them. On this first day of spring, I'm celebrating the light on that bud, and those roots.

(I photographed Phil being honored for his volunteer work on behalf of local wild salmon restoration this evening -- see here.)