Everyone needs a purples in life.

As I may explain in greater depth in a Someday Post of the Future, two years ago I contracted a local landscaping company to help me do some of the things I simply could not do myself…things like “multiply into a team of 7 burly men that can lift enormous rocks,” or “reliably operate a chainsaw without accidentally severing arm(s).” (I’m not saying I’ve had issues with the latter, but I have no interest in confirming or denying my suspicions.)

One of the things I particularly needed help with was a big ol’ shrub to the left of the house.

 

As much as I’m fond of visual assaults of greenery, this particular shrub relentlessly hogged the driveway, scratched the car, and…most unforgivably…persistently poked and stabbed the most well-intentioned of caretakers. (Why it couldn’t behave more like its twin brother, calm, collected, and quietly tucked away on the right-hand side of the house, I never knew.) And so, in the summer of 2011, when the burly men came with their trusty muscles and chainsaw-defying arms, this bush done got whacked.

 

My precious, dentable skin aside, I was also strongly motivated in this endeavor by my thrilling Shrub Replacement Plan: plant a lilac. Ah, beautiful lilacs, YES! Idyllic days were imagined where Future Me, carefree and impeccably coiffed with lilac-laden hair, would dreamily putter about on the porch as the sweet scent of lilacs wafted through the windows while I arranged still more lilacs into overflowing vases on every possible horizontal surface. Since my lifelong lilac appreciation was due in part to the hijinks of the intrepid young sleuth you see to the right, it was also entirely possible that Future Me would concurrently solve a fascinating mystery (like, for example, why had I turned into a crazy lilac lady?). Though I remembered precious few details of Nancy’s exploits at Lilac Inn, my memory was at least clear on the fact that a) the book was awesome and b) lilacs were, therefore, indisputably awesome. Needless to say, chums, I got that lilac planted.

Fast-forward two years and I’ve not (yet) become the mythical (or mysterious) Future Me, but the scene is nevertheless quite lovely to behold and besmell…

 

For any readers that might be curious, this particular specimen is a Pocahontas lilac, which has a richer reddish/purple tone than the classic pale lavender variety. I’m still incredibly eager for the day the blooms are visible from the porch (without me hanging perilously out the windows), but even as-is, it’s a fragrant send-off for the morning commute and a welcoming beacon for the joyful return.

Best of all, this Pocahontas never ever pokes (not even a hontas), and it never ever stabs. When it comes to this lovely lilac, we’re talking a heart of gold purple…and I love it.

Until next time, dear readers, take care!