Can you smell a blip?

Touring the garden this evening at sunset when photography is just right in the slanting light, I rode around on my scooter with my Faithful Navigator (Gracie t-t) front feet on the front tire hub. I found one excellent blip contestant after another. Remember Winter... not so long ago when finding anything with more colour than white was a grateful blip?

Here are some of today's candidates:
The first outer protective leaf of the first tree peony bud has unfurled... a couple of newly planted, purple/pink Rhodies are just opening. I found a Grass of Parnassus, a.k.a. "Blue-eyed Grass" growing in the front hedge among the buttercups invaders and other "weeds". I was so delighted at seeing the single violet-blue flower, it was as if I'd found a new planet. The blue in the photos did not come out looking real. Also, I have felt guilty ever since because the grass part of the G. of P. looks just like weedy grass and I suspect I have been pulling and freely composting his relatives.
I also took a few views of the Reines des Violettes --a newly planted rose bush. Not very interesting now, but it goes into the 2013 garden history record. I love antique roses that smell divinely and help make Rose Petal Jam..
And so, now we come to the blooming wall of lilacs occupying the back garden near the house. Just to turn the corner and to enter the yard with its 12 ft. tall 25 ft. long lilac wall overwhelms the senses with a fragrance so strongly that I find it impossible to think for a while. I gravitated to my favourite of the four varieties. It's only just started blooming... always the last one, and the deepest purple. If I could send you a blip of its fragrance that stops your thinking and helps you transcend to its place of sweet peace I would do so.
Instead, I am sending this blip of a perfectly opened bunch of blooms which my nose visited for quite a while. Imagine...

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