Katherine Nicolai

The goal was for each person to pick three buckets worth.

We collected scads of donated vases from friends and family, and we'd make bouquets of the different colored blooms to entice market-goers.

I snipped another branch with several clumps of rosy-hued flowers

and dew fell from the petals and leaves above me, giving me a brief shower.

I chuckled, and I thought of how far I'd come from those days, riding around town, swiping stems, and how a random turn on a country road can change your life.

There are only a few days of the spring when you can step out of the door and smell them on every passing breeze.

So bright and sweet that there's nothing to do but plant your feet

and take slow, deep breaths to try to store their scent deep inside for another year.

The lilacs.

I remember as a child pressing my face into their soft blooms

dew coming away on my cheeks, and wondering how something could smell like that and look like that and grow so abundantly and be allowed.

It seemed too good.

too perfectly aligned with what was pleasing to just occur naturally.

But I guess there is a catch with lilacs.

They only bloom once a year, and they don't last long.

In fact, they're best enjoyed on the tree.

When you cut them down and bring them inside, they soon wilt and dry up and their sweet smell fades.

Still, I couldn't help myself.

I would try

to be surrounded by them for as long as possible each spring.