Mowing the lawn yesterday, I was sad to see that my lilacs have almost gone by. The once vibrant purple now looks ragged and anemic; a forlorn copy of its former splendor like Cinderella, after the clock strikes midnight. The season for them is so short, it hardly seems worth mowing around them, at least that’s what I tell myself the rest of the summer. How quickly I forget how much I look forward to them every Spring; one of the first bouquets of wildflowers to grace my table, perfuming the stale, winter air with wafts of hope and rebirth. But, as quickly as I am reminded that their presence means that Spring has arrived in Maine, with its mud, its blackflys, it’s 40 degree nights and 80 degree days, the lilacs are gone.

My thoughts meandering as I mowed, the by-gone lilacs reminded me of the seasons of my own life. Although I don’t feel old, so many have already come and gone; childhood, teen years, young wife and mother, my own teenagers, and now an (almost) empty nest. Within each season, there were lessons to be learned before moving on. Looking back on each one now, I would never want to return. Each new season heralded a change and growth, but also a nostalgia for the past. Change is hard, but without change, we cannot grow, and without growth, we die. How simple life would be if we had no growing pains but how dull too. I dearly love lilacs, but I would grow tired of seeing them after a while. The smell too, would either cease to be noticed, or the house would be so drenched in it, it would be almost nauseating. As sad as I am to see them go, I’m glad that they were here, even if it now means I’ll have to mow around a giant green bush all summer, the blooms only a pleasant memory.

Sweaty, yet feeling pleasantly accomplished, I pushed the mower back into the garage and went out on the deck to gulp water and admire the fruits of my labor. As I stood in the shade, looking out on our unmowed fields. a splash of purple caught my eye. Lupine! The lilacs are gone, but it’s June in Maine, which means that lupine has arrived. Tall and proud, with pale pinks, vibrant amethyst, and creamy white against a back drop of green waving grasses, lupine is a harbinger of Summer, the premier season to live in Vacationland, at least in my opinion. Lilacs completely forgotten now, my thoughts turned to the joys of summer, then circled back again to the realization that the end of one season means the start of another, different yes, but with its own pleasures and lessons to learn. The Bible says that there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the sun. I’m thankful for the seasons in my life that have led me to this one. The lupine reminded me that there is beauty in each one if we will only stop and appreciate it.