Writing Under the Influence

Olfactory euphoria and words that begin with the letter L

In years past I used to pick flowers a lot, especially during those times when I lived with a mate. There’s nothing like a vase full of wildflowers on the dining table at breakfast to show you care. It’s a loving gesture.

But I don’t do that much anymore. It’s not just because I’ve been blissfully mate-less for many years but also because I feel guilty. Flowers should remain on their plant for the bees and bugs and birdies to enjoy, right? To rudely take them out of their element seems a little bit mean. If you want to enjoy flowers, go outside! (Or plant flowers in pots on your window sill.)

But I simply can’t help myself when it comes to one particular flower. I happen to be a lascivious lover of lilacs. A few weeks late, the lilac bushes around here have finally started to bloom. They are just a couple of days away from full bloom.

I took a little walk around the neighborhood yesterday afternoon and I went up to every lilac bush I came across, sticking my nose into the flower clusters and taking a deep inhalation of their heavenly fragrance. One lilac bush had several clusters that were fully open and I cut a few of them and brought them home to put in vase. They are sitting on my desk as I type this. I am currently bathed…