Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Front and Back
In front, driving up the driveway, my eyes are drawn to the perfect clumps of plump Puschkinia sp. that are madly strewn across the front bed. These lush wanton displays are white from afar, blobs of bright white against the sun-faded mulch, short and flat and full.
I've written of these before, allayed with the sweetest, most unobtrusive fragrance yet unbottled. Today the fragrance is far stronger than normal, discernible and satisfying at head height, wafted upwards by the breeze to save my knees. I swoon, struck steadfast by the scent, grateful and giddy from sheer drifts of olfactory overload.
In back, my sole clump of grape hyacinths, variety lost to time, lifts another fragrance to the nose, this one at once less and more sweet than Puschkinia. The normal proper position to observe a grape hyacinth is most certainly reclined, belly-down on the filthy adjacent patio, nose deep in the blossoms. Wary today, I cede the territory to the busy bumblebee above, insect blood warmed by sun in its veins, seeking the first meal of the year, a frantic never-ending search for nourishment as nectar. I don't envy the insect a touch of the grape, satisfied to sample the scent of spring in my own time and fashion.
With luck, and soon rain, the lilacs will burst on the scene in due time, eager to swamp the senses with buxom inflorescence and heavy odor. Today, Puschkinia and hyacinth lure me in, tomorrow beaten senseless by lilacs. It's a sensuous life, but somebody's got to live it.