Lilac Thief

I was on my way to deliver a gift when I passed the old school house turned house and gasped. The house had been empty for quite some time and the real estate sign was gone so I wondered if it had been sold. I decided I would stop to take a look on my way back home.

That I did.  I pulled over into a driveway that was fading and looked at the overgrown lawn.  The front door was very close to the road so I peeked in the window to see if the place was truly empty.  

O.K. good...no one to ask if I could pick some lilacs that were leaning over and touching the front door.  The road going past the house was not a busy one, but still I felt a little guilty if anyone saw me.  

The reason I had gasped when I first saw the lilacs was because of the colors.  The lilac bush closest to the house was a dark vibrant purple, not a color frequently seen.  The bush next to the purple one was a beautiful bluish shade of lavender, not the pale color that is so frequent along roadsides.  The last bush contained double white blooms which seemed rare to me as well.  

I started breaking off the dark purple stems and heard a car coming.  I ducked my head into the bush as the car passed.  My problem is I have never taken anything except flowers without asking permission but even so I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.  

In order to get to the lavender lilacs I had to step in a ditch and it was deeper than I thought.  After picking the lavender blue lilacs, I walked along to the double whites and another car drove past me.  I then walked in the small ravine toward my car.  Before I got out of the ditch I had brushed against something that stung my feet which were only in sandals.  I guess it would be my punishment for taking without asking if I got poison ivy.  

Van Winkle School turned house, place of the lilac thievery, was one of many schools my father attended when he was a boy.  He told me how he would walk to school and some Russian boys would steal his lunch.  He was small for his age.  He finished the 8th grade at Van Winkle.  I wonder if there were lilacs growing there when he was a child.

The purple, lavender, and white bouquet was a picture to behold and I don’t regret my transgression.  When I think of lilacs I always think of Walt Whitman’s poetic tribute to Abraham Lincoln.  The poem contains sixteen stanzas, but three gives one a taste of the whole.  

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d

1

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d.

And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,

I mourn’d and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,

Lilac blooming, perennial and drooping star in the west,

And thought of him I love.

2

O powerful western fallen star!

O shades of night - O moody, tearful night!

O great star disappear’d - O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless - O helpless soul of me!

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.

.

3

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.