For me, that wonderful place is called Starbird Hill.
We crested Starbird Hill the other night in the moonlight, our own little valley spread before us like a blanket. Cranked down the windows and breathed in air that seemed to be scented with the magical perfume of lilacs.
The next morning I ran out to sniff around the yard and enjoy all the lilac bushes I planted several years ago. What a gorgeous smell!
We've got lots of them, from deep dark violet to the classic pinky purple, and creamy white ones, pale pinks. Not for the the thinly elegant store-bought floral arrangements. I prefer armloads of home grown beauties with the old fashioned brilliant smells snipped in the cool of morning with the rusty cutters that hang on the nail by the garage door.
Oh the fun of cutting armloads of lilacs in the morning, with the dewy grasses tickling your toes!
