Western New York at this time of year is lilac heaven...
They grow almost like weeds and don't seem to have minded the hard winter.
The scent is sweet, almost sad, bringing back tantalising wisps of forgotten memories.
The real centre of the lilac universe is Rochester, a couple of hours from us, where hubby grew up and where they have a lilac festival. which I should get to see some day.
In the meantime I get all sentimental thinking of the old song,
We'll gather lilacs in the spring again
and walk together down an English lane....