When Lilacs Last in the Backyard Bloomed

This spring has been a feast for flowering tree lovers! First the Bradford Pears, then the star magnolias (or tulip trees) and now the redbuds and also the dogwoods. It's not so great for those of us with spring pollen allergies, but the sight almost makes up for it.

The old fashioned lilac in the back border (above) is way taller than I am now. It was a mere two feet tall and a collection of sprigs when Norm dug it up in the spring of 2001 so we could transplant it to this yard. It has bloomed the past 3 years, but this year, it is covered with light, lilac flowers that smell so sweet. Lilacs always remind me of Walt Whitman's poem in tribute to president Abraham Lincoln, When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed. PBS aired a wonderful portrait of Whitman on The American Experience about a week ago.

I don't think there are any famous poems about redbud trees. I just know they have always been a part of my life. One graced the yard of the house in Tulsa where I grew up, and my parents' yard after they moved when I was grown. The house Norm and I had in Ferguson was eventually shaded by a transplanted redbud we named Muriel, after the wife of the man who gave it to us. When we moved to our Bel Nor house, there was already a redbud in the front yard (above, right) that Lois' children had given her for Mother's day a few years back. It is glorious this year. We brought with us a tiny sprig, a sprout of Muriel, and planted it on the other side of the front walk. (Above, left) Too young to bloom, Little Muriel suffered a blow a year after our move when a dead branch fell out of the mighty oak above and broke off its leader. We staked the tree and started training a side branch to become the leader. This year, Little Muriel bloomed for the first time! We treasure this because the people who bought our Ferguson house chopped the original Muriel down.

Norm and I are still feeling the effects of recent bouts of respiratory illness. We take turns with coughing fits...but we don't have fevers or any other symptoms so we assume this is part of the healing process. It's just inconvenient when we want to be outside weeding the garden or taking a walk and we have bronchial spasms instead. Norm is following his eyedrop regimen and is still working on eye coordination between the "new" one and the one that awaits surgery. He is still reporting a fairly large floater in the eye that had surgery, and we just hope it fades in time. Today was cool and sunny, and we went to the opening of the Ferguson Farmer's Market, about which I wrote last year. We came home with some local Missouri honey (hopefully to desensitize my spring allergies), some whole grain bread, and a cilantro plant. The market will be our regular Saturday foray from now until late October. We are glad it is open. It's another sign of spring, and of hope. Even if we are supposed to get a late frost tomorrow night.