"What's your favorite flower?"

The question was asked as we were going around the room introducing ourselves during a floral workshop I attended many years ago. Such a simple, little question. My mind converted it into some sort of zen koan on the essential nature of flowers and why we were being asked this question. I was perplexed and befuddled. Come on Nardo, think! I couldn't come up with one flower that wasn't my favorite flower at one point or another.
 "All flowers" emerged out of the muck.

And yet, and yet.
I bought some lilacs  two weeks age. It was unusual, having not bought them the past few years because they can be unpredictable and suddenly decide not to take up water and wilt, or ?  I was standing in the SF Flower Mart in a mass of lilac blooms, finally being seduced enough again to make a selection when suddenly overwhelmed by how much I really really love lilacs. It was nearly a pull out the kleenex moment, the only restraint being the embarrassment of being in a bustling crowd.

Flowers can play so many roles, but in this instance they were fueling nostalgia. Well, you know how memories are; so pliable and subject to interpretation. 

But here is how I remember two moments in time.

Memory 1
It was a warm, spring morning in my second grade classroom at St. Bernadine's Catholic School in Baltimore City.  In my neighborhood the crocus, daffodils, tulips, azaleas and magnolias bloomed within a fairly short period of time which made a particularly intense and heady contrast after a cold winter of gray sky and naked trees. Spring Fever was rampant. There was a ritual at our school in the spring. A plaster statue of Mary, Jesus's mother was brought out and placed in the front of a class on a table decorated with the assorted spring flowers. During the month of May we would draw names out of a fish bowl. If your name was drawn you got to make a little crown of flowers from your home garden to put on Mary's head and deliver it during a touching ceremony that entailed the class standing up and singing a song while the maker approached the statue and crowned her with the flower wreath.

 "Oh Mary, we crown you with blossoms today, queen of the roses....queen of the May!"


Finally, the fish bowl coughed up my name. The next morning I walked to school gingerly transporting the freshly made crown wrapped in a damp paper towel in a plastic baggie balanced on my hand. Was the crown made from lilacs? I have no idea! But I do completely associate the scent of the lilacs filling the air while walking up to place the crown on top of Mary's head. It was a solemn yet joyful little ceremony.  While I'm not a practicing Catholic, it still remains a moving, lilac scented associated memory.

Memory 2
I'm driving down Tejon Street in Colorado Springs during the first spring living in this new town and brand new life of mine. Six months prior I packed my little white Datsun with all my earthly belongings to move from Baltimore, Maryland to Colorado Springs, Colorado, the land of the true West.  

A little more than a year before my college boyfriend and I embarked on a cross-country trip in celebration of our graduation from college  Our transport was a Volkswagon bug loaded with two big dogs and camping gear. Prior to leaving he rebuilt the engine to get it ready for the big trip. Nuts and bolts had a hand in fate and the engine seized as we approached the Rocky Mountains. We got towed  to the Springs and my boyfriend's friend's house while the engine got repaired. His friend had one very compelling roommate... 

This was not the cell phone era. After returning to Baltimore I eventually parted with my college boyfriend (wonderful- but not the right guy). Jon and I exchanged approximately 24 letters, 2 phone calls, and one short visit, I returned to Colorado to move in with him. We are still together. 
It's not always a bed of lilacs, but it is one of my very best choices in life.

On the drive on that spring day I passed lilac bush after lilac bush, planted in the medians, planted in yards. I wondered why on earth the town had not been named Lilac Springs. I had never seen so many varieties of this beautiful flower, nor seen them grow with such vigor. The whole town was scented and love was in the air and in my heart.