My sister Diane loves lilacs and would surround herself with them daily if she could. Sweet little lavender explosions of scent that last only a couple of weeks. They lend romance and elegance to any room you put them in.
As the poet Amy Lowell says in her poem 'Lilacs';
You persuaded the housewife that her dish pan was of silver.
And her husband an image of pure gold.
You flaunted the fragrance of your blossoms
Through the wide doors of Custom Houses--
You, and sandal-wood, and tea,
Charging the noses of quill-driving clerks
When a ship was in from China.
Happy Spring, my dear Diane!
