Lilacs at the end of the alley

This time of year yields so much greenery that when a flower so powerful comes forth it can not help but be noticed.  Most people appreciate lilacs.  I have come to love them so much on my morning jaunt down the lane.  I almost forget the doldrums of the activities life offers up.  Sprinting out in the rain with two dogs and no umbrella, I pull up my hood.  I make it to the end of the mud and rocks and smell them before I see them.  They are simple clusters of purple flowers on a large bush that has become as large as any tree.  The scent flows through the decay of the back alleys and side streets.  It makes everything aromatic and beautiful.  Red rain boots protect against the mud.  Muddy paws pad around the soft earth and delight in it's messiness.  How much we need the water.  I always think that the colors owe their existence to water and light.  How much water will it take to bring out the burnt oranges in the fall?  How much water pulled forth this electric green?  And how much did the light burn through the mist and pull them up by their stems?  It's like hair standing on end watching this spring fiasco.  I am fully ready to embrace the chicks and nests and crazy growing things along my fence.  Lilacs in season.  There is no single time, so fleeting, that creates such contentment.