“In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash’d palings,
Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love,
With every leaf a miracle—and from this bush in the dooryard,
With delicate-color’d blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
A sprig with its flower I break.” –
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed, Walt Whitman.
Maria was kind enough to pick me some lilacs from our blossoming Lilac bushes; I was enchanted by their beauty and power. Here are four pictures I took. More to come. They speak for themselves.
See you tomorrow; this is my sign-off.
