I made wine from the lilac tree
Put my heart in its recipe
It makes me see what I want to see
And be who I want to be
The lilac in the front garden is in full bloom and when I got up this morning the morning sun had brought out its full fragrance; a lovely start to the day. When I first bought the house my grandmother had said that I should never cut it and bring it inside as it was unlucky. I took her on face value and for years the lilac blooms stayed uncut on the tree, but this year I’ve got a few sprigs on the kitchen windowsill. Apparently it acquired a reputation for being unlucky because it was used by undertakers to mask the smell of embalming fluid.
Although I’m a great lover of history, I’ve started to realise recently that doing things without question just for the sake of tradition whether they are logical or not is something that needs to be challenged. Unthinking thinking isn’t helpful. I took on the mighty leviathan of Christmas traditions this year and the sky didn’t fall in, and that’s made me braver about tackling other things.
So, sorry nanna, in the spirit of me challenging my thoughts and beliefs I’m always going to cut some and bring some into the house each May, it’s too transitory and beautiful not to be made the most of. A bit like life really.