Memories of Lilacs.
It all happened so fast. A few days ago, clusters of lilac blossoms hung heavy on on every branch of each shrub, the air around them fragrant, full of their perfume. Today, they are brown and brittle, all color and scent gone from the flowers, as spring prepares to become summer…
The scent of lilacs reminds me of my grandmother, who died many (45-50) years ago. I am pretty sure she wore lilac-scented perfume back then, because the memory-connection is so clear and vivid. In my experience, olfactory memories are powerful, often refusing to fade over time, continuously triggering memories of specific people, places, and moments.
So, when the lilacs bloom in mid-May, I always think of Lily Mercer Murray who:
- Was born in Liverpool,
- Was a brave young nurse on the front lines of the Big War,
- Immigrated to Canada and worked off her debt,
- Traveled south and settled in Astoria, Queens, New York City,
- Raised two boys (including my father), and
- Moved to Ossining on the Hudson River until the end of her days.
This is about remembering the lilacs from last week and my grandmother who smelled like them. At least that’s how I remember her…
Camera: iPhone 11pro
Editing: Hipstamatic app
Photographer: Russ Murray aka “remages”
Location: Somewhere in Stamford, CT
See you tomorrow…
russ murray 