The Hero Lilac

The big lilac in front of my house put on a huge, aromatic
show this spring, infusing me with a bit more confidence
in the rest of the garden season. 

When I bought my house back in November, 2007, the place was a wreck.  

Before me, it had been owned by - no lie - a schizophrenic pot dealer with a penchant for guns and a huge overestimation of his plumbing and electrical skills.  

But I needed a bargain fixer upper and this was my ticket. 

The house had good bones, though it was a wreck. The plumbing leaked, the electrical system was about as far from code as you could get. The property comprises an acre, all overgrown with weeds, dead shrubs and tangles of wild grapevine. 

However, I envisioned a place that would eventually become a paradise, a comfortable home with beautiful gardens where a weather geek like me can watch and measure the change of seasons, the pluses and minuses of Vermont weather, and for better or worse, changes in the climate.

Thanks to my husband Jeff and his exquisite design vision, the house is now gorgeous. (Bonus: Also safe and up to building code standards).And because of my love of playing in the dirt, the gardens aren't too shabby. 

This process from beast to beauty has to start from a place of potential. The house was just a simple rectangle, a blank slate on which Jeff could work his magic. 

The property had pieces that promised beauty, too. The back yard has three enormous poplar trees, The Triplets as I call them, that anchor the back yard gardens.

When I bought the house, there was a large but battered lilac bush out front just begging for some TLC.

I'm a Vermonter, and I know it's sacrilegious to destroy a lilac. And this old lilac had potential, like the rest of the property. Lilac and I were fast friends.

I quickly tore out all the dead limbs and stems. In December of 2007,  pruned the tangles. Contained the tendrils running out toward the drive. Lilac rewarded me in May, 2008 with gorgeous blooms and hasn't let me down since.

Except for one incident that wasn't Lilac's fault. I'll get to that in a bit. 

Blooms on my lilac were so profuse the branches sagged,
leaving me with this gorgeous view at my front door

Lilacs are tough old birds. They'll survive just fine for decades after the house they were near has long since disappeared. So I learned never to worry about Lilac. This guy fights back. 

In April, 2010, we had an early spring. By the last week of the month, Lilac had leafed out and had plenty of flower buds. Then on April 27-28, thirteen inches of snow flattened twelve-foot-tall Lilac to the ground. 

Then it thawed and Lilac sprung back almost as if nothing had happened. I had to remove one relatively minor branch that had cracked. 

Lilac became my measure of how late or early spring was. Lilac bloomed spectacularly by the first of May, 2012, the earliest I'd seen that happen. It was a remarkably warm spring. It ran a little late in May, 2014 after a cool spring. 

But Lilac was always reliable.

Maybe it's a sign of how off the rails the climate has gotten, but last year was the first time I've seen Lilac's spring glory diminished by goofy weather. 

Spring, 2021 was very early, almost as early as 2012. The florets were budding and growing by April 20. Then, on April 21-22, it snowed.  No problem, Lilac has proven it can handle that. Then, with temperatures in the 20s, roaring northwest winds and snow squalls ripped through during the morning and early afternoon of April 22.

That managed to kill many of the florets on Lilac.  It subsequently bloomed a little bit, but the show was very much diminished last spring. It made me wonder a little bit if gardening is even worth it. If climate change can diminish tough Lilac, what will it do to everything else, eventually. 

Apparently, Lilac wants me to buck up.  This year, another early spring, but not as early as last year arrived. There was one scare of sorts with another super heavy, wet snowstorm on April 19 that weighed down the branches, but that ended quickly with no problem.

The blooms this year were more than I've ever seen. Everyone in Vermont appears to have had a great lilac year, but Lilac by my house outdid itself. You can scarcely see any leaves, the blooms were so profuse. The branches were so heavy with blooms they sagged almost to the ground. 

Talk about encouragement! The breeze blowing the aroma of the lilacs through the house was enough to snap me out of my negative mood.'

A too-early bout with heat and humidity (yay, climate change again) made the lilac show come and go faster than usual. The blooms have faded now, but they did their job. 

Yes, I'm way behind on gardening this year.  But I can go forward with confidence, with Lilac's spring blessing. I don't know what kind of setbacks I might suffer this summer, - drought, floods, severe windstorms, spongy moth caterpillars - who knows? 

In the age of climate change, you need any type of confidence I can collect.