Flowers
A Touch of Zen
Pruning old lilacs, discovering volunteer seedlings, and finding quiet moments among plants that have become part of the story of House 173.
Today, was a perfect summer day... Hot, but not too hot, no humidity and a clear blue sky. So I decided to spend some time with the lilacs, cutting back dead limbs and thinning out a few overgrown areas. Just the perfect excuse to be outdoors! Let's get into it...
Lilacs That Have Watched the Years Go By: The Originals
More than 25 years ago, two lavender lilac bushes were planted in the backyard here at House 173. It’s fun to think back about what the yard looked like then, fresher, emptier, but those lilacs took root, settled in, and made the space their own.
They’ve weathered everything from harsh winters to hot, stubborn summers, yet each spring they continue to bloom, filling the yard with a soft fragrance that’s become part of the rhythm of life here.
Over the years they've quietly become one of the landmarks of House 173. Every May, before I notice much of anything else waking up in the yard, I find myself checking the lilacs. Are the buds swelling yet? Did the winter treat them kindly? Their bloom has become one of those dependable milestones that tells me another gardening season has truly begun. I suppose every old house has a few living traditions. Around here, the lilacs are certainly one of them.
When Nature Plants Its Own Garden
Over the decades, something unexpected happened. A white lilac began to grow in the same patch, quietly establishing itself among the originals like it had always belonged.
No one knows exactly how it got there, maybe a seed carried by wind or bird, but there it was, a soft white surprise in a cluster of lavender.
Then this past spring, another lilac appeared, this time discovered near the shed. We’d never noticed it before, tucked away behind tools and forgotten corners. I decided to transplant it to the main lilac patch, bringing it into the family, so to speak. It hasn't bloomed yet, so we don’t know what color it will be. There's a kind of anticipation in that, not knowing, but looking forward.
Among the Lilacs
This morning,
I worked among the lilacs—
clearing dead limbs,
thinning what had grown too wild.
The lavender ones,
planted decades ago,
stood quiet as always,
patient in their giving.
A white one grew there too,
arrived on its own,
as things sometimes do
when we’re not looking.
And now a newcomer,
lifted from beside the shed,
waits to show its color.
There is a kind of peace
in this slow tending—
not in the bloom,
but in the reaching in,
the listening,
the soft, small work
of care.
I move gently
through their branches
and am made quiet too.
GB Shaw Jr.
2025
Caring for Mature Lilacs
Today, I spent time among the lilacs, cutting back dead limbs and thinning out a few overgrown areas.
There’s something about that kind of work—quiet, steady, hands in the branches, that brings a kind of peace I haven’t found anywhere else. It’s not just gardening; it feels like tending to something sacred. These lilacs aren’t just plants. They’re part of the memory of this place. They've seen seasons, storms, celebrations, and quiet afternoons. They've grown alongside us.
A Small Donation: Planting for the Future
A couple of winters back, I made a small donation to the Arbor Day Foundation, nothing big, just enough to feel like I was giving back in some small way. In return, they sent me a young white lilac bush, barely more than a twig in the beginning. We planted it in the still-frozen ground in late winter, almost spring in '22 alongside the others in the patch, where it’s been slowly taking hold, stretching toward the sun, learning the rhythms of this yard. Here's a shot in its first summer. Because it was small, I circled it:
It's a quiet sort of satisfaction, planting something like that. A gesture that feels both humble and hopeful. That little gift reminded me how simple it can be to contribute to something lasting. I should do that more often, support the work of trees, of green things, of roots making their way underground. It's a small act, but like a lilac seed, it can lead to something beautiful.
The Quiet Work of Stewardship
Every time I prune or clear a branch, I feel more connected, not just to the plants, but to 173 itself. These lilacs, planted almost a quarter century ago, still stand tall. Still bloom. Still remind us that something planted with care can outlast us, can change and grow in ways we never expect, and still bring beauty year after year.
Hey, thanks for stopping by - see ya' next time!
I really enjoyed this one. Most gardening posts are all about how to prune something. This one reminded me why we bother in the first place.I loved the surprise of the white lilac and the mystery of the new volunteer that hasn't bloomed yet. That's one of my favorite things about gardening... you never know what nature has planned.And that little poem fit perfectly. It felt like the kind of thought that only comes after spending a quiet morning outside. Thanks for reminding me that gardens are just as much about memories as they are flowers. - A Nature Lover
Frequently Asked Questions
When is the best time to prune lilac bushes?
Lilacs are usually pruned shortly after they finish blooming. Pruning too late in the season removes next year's flower buds. Removing dead wood and thinning crowded branches encourages healthier growth and better air circulation.
Why do volunteer lilac bushes appear?
Lilacs often spread through underground suckers. Birds may also distribute seed, although suckers are much more common. These volunteers can be transplanted while young to establish new shrubs elsewhere in the landscape.
Can mature lilacs be transplanted?
Young volunteers transplant fairly easily with adequate roots. Older established lilacs are much more difficult to move because of their extensive root systems.
How long do lilac bushes live?
With occasional pruning and proper care, common lilacs can live for many decades. Many shrubs continue blooming for fifty years or more, often becoming treasured features of older home landscapes.
Why are lilacs so nostalgic?
Beyond their beautiful flowers and fragrance, lilacs bloom at almost exactly the same time each spring. That dependable rhythm often ties them to memories of childhood homes, family gatherings, and the changing seasons.
Keywords
lilac bushes, pruning lilacs, mature lilacs, white lilac, lavender lilac, volunteer lilacs, transplanting lilacs, House 173 garden, summer gardening, Arbor Day Foundation, backyard landscaping, Northeast gardening
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