Cliff Edge

Lilacs grow richly on the cliff edge -- and only on the cliff edge! -- and make quite a display for passersby on the highway below. During their brief springtime bloom, I get an armful or so for the house and porch and giveaways to the benighted who do not have lilacs. (How they got up here in a sand glade I don't know.) They rank with bluebirds and crocuses as one of my favorite things and one I will crawl onto a cliff edge for. Who wouldn't? As long as I can, I will, and I would grieve if I didn't.

This time the usual approach to the cliff edge was overgrown, already, with leafy understory junk shrubs and vines. Up a slope of tall grass with bits of sandstone gravel imploding under my treads, shouldering past an electrical pole, stepping over fallen logs and a patch of prickly pear cactus growing in a sandy microclimate one foot square -- never know what you'll find around here! -- keeping my balance, some lilacs were within my reach. The greater part of the display just swayed in the wind and laughed.

Lilacs are not Missouri native plants or even North American. They're from Eastern Europe and Asia. To whoever sneaked them over here, thank you, and I understand you completely.

When Lilacs at Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd

 Called my neighbor Sherri and asked, "Would you like some lilacs?"

They're on the cliff edge facing the road and grow nowhere else on the property. Have to sidle out onto the cliff top, very carefully, because it's sandstone and eroding. If I'm going there I thought I might as well clip enough for two, because they are too fragrant not to share. And because every one of our Moms had some lilac something. Because we see them for only a week per year.
      So I wrapped them in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and delivered lilac branches to Sherri. And while we chatted I admired her two raised garden boxes, one with lettuce growing, and several kale plants with small tender leaves. I love to eat kale, but my yard is unfenced, and when I was allowed to plant them, bunnies ate them down to a nub before I could. Sherri invited me to just clip the kale plants and take them, to make room to plant summer vegetables. So I scored some baby kale! I call that a fair trade!