❝If winter comes, can spring be far behind?❞
Shelley’s words, along with the forced bulbs currently popping up in the grocery stores, have reminded me that, even in this year of uncertainty, spring will come again. And so, as the evergreens, Christmas cacti, and amaryllises (I swear, I looked it up) fade, they are replaced with crocus, tulips, tiny daffodils, and, my favorite, hyacinths.
I have never been able to find any perfume, lotion, or other scent-laden item that offers the true fragrance of a hyacinth. Those I have tried were too cloying or too sweet or just too much. The hyacinth fragrance (I think the pink ones smell the best) is light, but not too timid. You notice it when you walk into a room, but it’s not so overbearing that you want to walk out again.
I always look forward to bringing home a hyacinth or two in mid-January—after the glow of the holidays has dimmed and before the craze of Valentine’s Day descends. The days are still short, but life has started up again and is settling down to the rhythm of the new year. I find that the ritual of bringing home a hyacinth and filling my home with that distinctive fragrance lets me know that the year is underway.
I find that the ritual of bringing home a hyacinth and filling my home with that distinctive fragrance lets me know that the year is underway.
This new year is different for me. Like many others, I lost a good friend last year. She was the one with whom I shared a love of gardening and flowers; the one who appreciated the beauty of a perfect camellia blossom; and the one who laughed at the unexpected appearance of a volunteer tomato plant sprouting up amongst my weeds. I miss her, and I expect as the winter “melts into spring” I’ll begin to realize how much.