This afternoon, on the penultimate day of August, is the season at its warmest, brightest gold – as summer’s fiery fingertips reach passionately for the the bronzed rainbow of autumn. Pleasantly shaded with peppermint tea in hand, I reminisce on the breezier side of the warm quarter of the British year.
Lilacs, in particular, are one of my favourite spring memories. They have a much more serene aroma compared to the general sparkling buzz of spring – they contribute to the mystical, rather than the glowing, side of magic. The infinite boughs of lilac clusters blossoming upwards, outwards, everywhere – was like a dream with no end; their perfume enchants the mind, heart, and body with its sweet muskiness that has the tender touch of a lullaby-like blackberry.
The scent of lilacs was refreshing in the radiant afternoons and alluring in the soft evenings of spring. It was sweet and envelopingly cool, like a swirly silvery dusk that promises an evening of luminous love. I find the petal clusters of lilac ever so cute and something like pastel stars or sophisticated cake sprinkles. Their hue has the warm blue of a summer lake and the sheer white of gossamer wings – and whether you want to imagine floating or flying is up to you!