When the season descends you dazzle us with the springtime favourites: tulips and daffodils and big bursting blossoms on flowering trees. But its your delicate lilacs that lure me: that sweet, old-fashioned scent pulling my face into green leaves, those delicate buds breaking open into lavender, fuchsia, and white.
Sure, they’re perfuming up the parks and front gardens and back alleys, distracting photo-snappers with the near-allure of cherry blossoms. But the sweetest Syringa of all are those springing forth from a patch of cracked concrete by the fire escape of an old factory.
toronto love letters 