We needed to transplant a lilac bush to an area by my raised vegetable beds. This was done in order to make room for a kayak and canoe stand that needs to be built. I refused to get rid of the bush. It is my symbol of fortitude.
My mother-in-law gave me a little, sickly twig of a thing that was supposed to be a lilac bush. We laughed at it for three years and I forgot to uproot it one fall when I thought it was beyond producing anything beautiful. Then the next spring- lovely, purple lilacs! It has continued producing for 7 years. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of the joy of perseverance and patience. My little bush doesn't look too good right now, but I have hope. And sometimes, that hope has nothing to do with lilacs.
My mother-in-law gave me a little, sickly twig of a thing that was supposed to be a lilac bush. We laughed at it for three years and I forgot to uproot it one fall when I thought it was beyond producing anything beautiful. Then the next spring- lovely, purple lilacs! It has continued producing for 7 years. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of the joy of perseverance and patience. My little bush doesn't look too good right now, but I have hope. And sometimes, that hope has nothing to do with lilacs. 
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