Photo Shoot: Ode to the lilac

If there is a comfort food equivalent in the plant world, for me it would be the lilac. This late-spring bloomer delivers year in and out. There are 12 months to a year, but May is when everything happens in my extended family — births, deaths, weddings, graduations — the fifth month is when it all comes together, and the heirloom lilacs are always there to help.

My connections to this venerable old shrub go back three generations. My maternal grandfather was a bit of a renaissance man, a machinist by trade, but a guy who could build a log cabin, plant a garden and knew the names of every plant he set eyes upon.

Grandpa Squires befriended the arborist at the Highland Park in Rochester, New York, where a large variety of lilacs are the showcase. The wonder of lilacs is they send out runners which can easily be dug up, replanted and will grow to massive size, given enough space and the luxury of time.

So my grandfather created his own arboretum with a big selection of lilacs, exotic colors of pink and double florets of white. My father married into this lilac clan and soon our side yard was also a small botanical wonder of these varieties.

Growing up, this showcase of blooms was a chore for this young landscaper in training, after mowing around each bush, we had to go back with hand shears and clear away the grass beside the trunks. When the season was done, all the spent blooms were hand clipped to promote next year’s growth. This could be a tricky process on a 7-foot shrub, trying to clip off the highest blooms on a 6-foot ladder, we persevered.

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As my own family life started up, the lilac cuttings from upstate New York migrated farther east as Dad would bring out cuttings to plant. Now 40 years on, my own lilac legacy is about to pass to the next generation.

So, as an emotional week of ups and downs, a wedding and a death in the same week, draws to a close, it seemed only natural to seek some quiet time in the shadow of my lilacs. The plant that was the background of so many family snapshots once again gave solace.

Their scent filled the air as the afternoon sun waned and a swallowtail fluttered overhead, nonchalantly working its way around the blooms, paying no heed to my inquiring eye behind the lens. The lilacs after so many years have continued to hold me in their spell and on into the future, always there in the month of May.

This article originally appeared on Cape Cod Times: Photo Shoot: Ode to the lilac, a part of Steve Heaslip's history