The lilacs have a message for us

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I observed recently that one of our lilac bushes brought forth flowers for a second time this year. My initial reaction was alarm: The bush is about to die! Soil damage! Climate change! Impending apocalypse! I have since learned from the Minnesota Star Tribune (“Wait, it’s lilac time — again?” Sept. 20) that this phenomenon is happening all over the Midwest, reflecting both a mild winter and the cool, leisurely summer we’ve all experienced.

I am now trying to shift my focus from catastrophe to welcoming a spring-meets-fall metaphor. It feels as though Mother Nature’s message was meant specifically for me.

Far from the spring of my youth, I sense that I am in the autumn of my life. We are about to become grandparents. Our last child is getting married. Doctor visits and lab tests are increasing. My husband is nearing retirement, and I am wrapping up my volunteer responsibilities. We are experiencing a lot of winding down, mentally and physically. The transition is an uneasy one. I am trying not to rebel too much, grasping foolishly at my former midlife summer energy with its boundless sunshine and get-up-and-go.

“Take more naps,” one health adviser suggested.

“NO!” protested my summer self, “I’m so busy!”

“Ah, yes,” said my autumn self, surrendering with a sigh.

And then, the lilacs bloomed in late September, perfuming the air with a fantastical promise of longer days, the sound of lawn mowers on weekend afternoons, and planting seeds instead of harvesting tomatoes. What were these optimistic lilacs trying to tell me?

To get out of my rut. To defy expectations. To take risks. To start something new. To rekindle romance. To be spontaneous. To worry less and hope more. To look at every situation with fresh eyes. To seek out new beginnings, new friendships, new hobbies, new flavors. Perhaps even to reinvent myself.

I feel exhausted thinking about this list of possibilities. And maybe that is the point the lilacs are making. They tell me: You, too, can take a nap and then reawaken into blooming.

Heidi Schneider is a writer and educator living in Golden Valley.