Superweed - Ephemera by pattrice jones

Lilacs bloomed in my urban backyard every spring in Ypsilanti. Every year, I watched the buds swell, waiting for the moment when they would burst into flower, filling the air with a delicate scent that seemed to prove something about the persistence of beauty. The weeks when the lilac bloomed were always too short and too few. Then again, we knew they would always come around again.

Here in rural Maryland, the springtime blooms are different but no less fragrant and fleeting. The honeysuckle and wild roses bloom in unison. Since both ramble all over the place, the few weeks in May when both are blossoming are a riotous celebration of sight and scent. In early June, the roses turn inward, storing up the sweetness that will flavor the rosehips encircling their seeds. But the atmosphere is no less heady because the boxwood begins to bloom just as the roses are fading. At least I think it’s the boxwood. It might well be some other shrub, or maybe the remaining Wisteria high up in the trees, sending out that intoxicating scent.

All I know is that, when I went out into the chicken yards early yesterday morning, I actually staggered, made drunk by the intensity of a floral scent that filled up all of the air in my head, sending my brain into paroxysms of surprised delight. Can you imagine: A chicken yard that smells like a perfume factory? Even though it happens every year, I kept looking around for the source of the scent, almost unable to believe that I could be lucky enough to experience something like this accidentally.

Maybe that was nature’s way of bracing me for what was coming. My favorite bird had died the day before and I had to face the first morning of doing my chores accompanied by her absence.

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