Seems my grandmother was partial to tulips and one of them, probably my grandfather, planted masses of them in a border that separated their yard from the neighbor’s yard.
Those tulips are long gone.
My grandfather worked his yard in much the same way that a farmer worked his fields or a rancher worked his land.
He dug up grass and planted a huge garden at the far end of the side yard. He tended a raspberry patch, planted two grape vines and a peach tree; edged his garden with a border of peonies.
The peach tree’s long gone. But the peonies, that must be more than 50 years old, come up every year.
The grape vines are still here.
Where there used to be nothing, a lilac bush pushes up against the wood fence that separates the front yard from our side yard. It’s almost a tree for its size. And, when it’s in full bloom, you can be standing in the kitchen, in front of the sink, looking out the open window … where you can breathe in the heady lilac perfume.
Or, if you’re out walking in the neighborhood, you can be around the corner, and that perfume sneaks up on you.
I love that.