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Beloved Lilacs: Embrace the Return of Spring

A visit to the UVM Hort. Farm proved to be well worth the trip, as lilacs are in their prime during the month of May.  Hundreds upon thousands of cobs of bloom dressed in shades of purple, pink, and rich cream were admired.  Walking down a path jam-packed with lilacs provides the senses with an overload of their lovely fragrance.  Lilacs are such a part of New England’s heritage that many believe them to be native, though the common lilac, Syringa vulgaris, originated in eastern Europe.  This species and hybrids of it were so frequently grown and selected by French nurserymen that France became synonymous with fine lilacs; we know them today as “French hybrids.” The term now commonly includes lilacs of that type even though they may not have been bred in France.  In 1767, Thomas Jefferson recorded his method of planting lilacs in his garden book, and on March 3, 1785, George Washington noted that he had transplanted existing lilacs in his garden. The oldest living lilacs in North America may be those at the Governor Wentworth estate in Portsmouth, N.H., believed to have been planted around 1750.

Lilacs grow best in full sun and well-drained soil. Lilacs grown in partial sun or shade will not flower well. The shrubs may take three to four years to establish themselves in a new site, but once established they can live for centuries. Soil pH (alkalinity or acidity of the soil) may affect the plant’s growth. Lilacs do well in a slightly acid to alkaline soil. New England soils are often very acidic and may require some modification for best lilac growth.

To ensure abundant flowering, cut off all spent blossoms each year and prune the flowering stem back to a set of leaves, thus preventing seed formation. If this is not done, good flowering years may be followed by bad years. Since flower buds are formed the summer before they bloom, it is best to prune right after flowering, preferably before the 1st of July.

One of my favorite varieties 'Sensation'

Resident lilacs here in the garden fill the house with their amazing scent

The Romance of Lilacs

This post is inspired by Nell Jean of Secrets of a Seed Scatterer, who recently encouraged us to post about the flower that we think to be the most romantic.

As winter releases it’s cold and bony grasp, and we look forward to warmth in the presence of May, I most look forward to, above all else, the return of the lilacs.  Hundreds of cobs of bloom appear over smooth, gray trunks, signifying both rebirth and renewal.  I do not know of any other flower with a scent more powerful or intoxicating.  Their trusses make for the most glorious bouquets, and freshly cut lilacs are quickly becoming a much anticipated spring ritual for me.  The genus Syringa contains twenty-three recognized species, and I could probably find good reason to grow every single one if I had the room.  For it is difficult to choose between flowers that range from the softest of pinks, the bluest of skies, the richest and deepest of purples, or the palest of yellows.

As with all lilacs, they can and will grow to produce impressive clumps that resemble a giant mass of  stems and twigs.  I prefer to single out three to five strong stems and remove the rest making for a more structural plant.  I have learned that lilacs prefer my spring cleaning through bouquet-making, as they begin to produce flower buds from late summer through fall.  Pruning too late will spoil the show for the following year.  For a long-lasting indoor arrangement, pound the ends of the stems with a hammer or rubber mallet, which will improve their ability to take up water.

Native to Europe and Asia, the oldest living lilacs in North America are thought to be those at the Governor Wentworth estate in Portsmouth, N.H., believed to have been planted around 1750.  This makes me think about the hands of the person who planted them, and the eyes of those who have admired them.  In pastures among ruins of homes long abandoned, there still stands lilacs marking the lives of those who shared happiness, sorrow, hope, and despair.  I wonder about their adventures, and where they went.  And, I wonder if they considered that the lilac they planted would still be standing, some three lifetimes later.