Precerpt from In with the East Wind: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life - Acton, Part 3: The Lilac Bush
Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir, In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver
The Lilac Bush
Across the driveway from the apple orchard and in front of the house—facing the winding rural roadway that snaked up and down the hills of Acton—stood the lilac bush. That old road wandered off in one direction toward Milton Mills, New Hampshire, and in the other toward Lebanon, Maine. In fact, the road itself divided Maine from New Hampshire as it crossed the river and passed the tanning mill. The state line was unmarked, but the family whose house straddled it knew exactly where it lay. The township boundary, they told us, was decided by the location of their master bedroom. One year, when they became fed up with Acton, they simply switched the master bedroom with another room and thereby "moved" their house to Lebanon. They have lived in Lebanon ever since.
The lilac bush—lavish with purple lilacs, the state flower of New Hampshire—stood in two-story splendor, framing the house so completely that no curtains were needed; no one could see through the dense lilac foliage. The air around the house in spring was intoxicating, the scent of lilacs wafting over into the apple orchard and mixing with the fragrances of apple, cherry, and pear blossoms. But always, always, the lilacs dominated—appearing before the orchard trees bloomed, staying longer, and filling every corner of the yard with their heady perfume. The fruit trees had to drop their blossoms to do the real work of bearing fruit, but the lilacs remained, carefree and unburdened. To this day, I cannot think of home, or of Maine or New Hampshire, without seeing and smelling purple lilacs.
Even now, the old camp song drifts back to me, one we sang over and over in the springtime:
I want to wake up in the morning
Where the purple lilacs grow,
Where the sun comes a-peeping
Into where I’m a-sleeping
And the songbirds say hello.
I want to wander through the wildwoods
Where the fragrant breezes blow,
And to drift back to New Hampshire
Where the purple lilacs grow.
Ma loved the lilacs, too. Every week, before our piano lessons, she would pick a great vaseful of blooms and set them on the piano as a gift for our tutor, the church organist, who came to teach us older four siblings. Every week, he smiled politely as she pointed out the fresh arrangement. This little ritual went on for several weeks until, one afternoon, he gathered his courage and told her gently that while he truly appreciated the kind gesture, he was, in fact, terribly allergic to lilacs.
I said goodbye to the purple lilacs when I left Maine for other parts of the world, but I took a little piece of home with me: lilac-scented deodorant (coworkers would sniff the air and ask what smelled so pretty) and lilac house spray, which I bought in bulk whenever I could find it—often buying out the entire store’s supply for fear I’d never find it again. Eventually, Secret stopped making the deodorant, and the spray has become increasingly hard to find.
We don’t have purple lilacs in California, at least not commonly. I searched, but no luck. So imagine my surprise and delight when we purchased our home atop a hill in San Juan Bautista and, come February, I discovered a lilac bush in the yard. It bloomed white—lovely, but not the perfume of my childhood. Then April came, and to my astonishment, scattered throughout the white blooms were clusters of purple lilacs—someone, long ago, had grafted them onto the white bush. I was transported. For six fragrant years, I woke to the scent of lilacs again.
Then came the day we decided to expand the house, turning the original basement garage into an apartment. There were purple morning glories near the construction area, and I agreed to have those removed. But one day, inexplicably, one of the workers—without warning, without reason—walked nearly fifty feet away from the worksite and cut down the purple lilacs, leaving only the white ones. Irreplaceable. He couldn’t explain why he had done it, and I still cannot make sense of it. I gave the contractor a choice: find new purple lilac grafts to replace what had been destroyed, or stop the job immediately without compensation, and I would hire someone else. He chose to walk away. And honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Where would he have found purple lilacs around here? I have no idea where the original owners found them.
I miss my purple lilacs. If I make it back to Maine this year, as I plan to, I will bring home a purple lilac bush. I will plant it and hope it takes root. And perhaps, once again, I will wake up in the morning where the purple lilacs grow.
Book Description:
From the barefoot freedom of rural Maine to the diplomatic halls of Central Asia, from rescuing a dying child in Siberia to training astronauts in Houston and Star City, In with the East Wind traces an extraordinary life lived in service, not strategy.
Unlike those who chase opportunity, the author responded to it—boarding planes, crossing borders, and stepping into urgent roles she never sought but never declined. Over 75 years and 26 countries, she worked as a teacher, soldier, linguist, professor, diplomat, and cultural ambassador. Whether guiding Turkmen diplomats, mentoring Russian scholars, or founding academic programs in unlikely places, her journey unfolded through a steady stream of voices asking: Can you come help us?
Told through an alphabetical journey across places that shaped her—from Acton, Maine to Uzbekistan—this memoir is rich with insight, adventure, and deep humanity. At its heart lies the quiet power of answering the call to serve, wherever it may lead.
Like Mary Poppins, she drifted in with the East Wind—bringing what was needed, staying just long enough, and leaving behind transformation. Then she returned home, until the next wind called.
From the forthcoming book:
In with the East Wind...A Mary Poppins Kind of Life
Volume 1: ABC Lands
by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver
For more posts about this book, click HERE.
For more posts by and about Betty Lou Leaver, click HERE.
To purchase copies of any MSI Press book at 25% discount,
use code FF25 at MSI Press webstore.
Want to read an MSI Press book and not have to buy for it?
(1) Ask your local library to purchase and shelve it.
(2) Ask us for a review copy; we love to have our books reviewed.
VISIT OUR WEBSITE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT ALL OUR AUTHORS AND TITLES.
(recent releases, sales/discounts, awards, reviews, Amazon top 100 list, author advice, and more -- stay up to date)Check out recent issues.
Interested in publishing with MSI Press LLC?
Turn your manuscript into a book!
Check out information on how to submit a proposal.
We help writers become award-winning published authors. One writer at a time. We are a family, not a factory. Do you have a future with us?
Turned away by other publishers because you are a first-time author and/or do not have a strong platform yet? If you have a strong manuscript, San Juan Books, our hybrid publishing division, may be able to help.
Planning on self-publishing and don't know where to start? Our author au pair services will mentor you through the process.
Interested in receiving a free copy of this or any MSI Press LLC book in exchange for reviewing a current or forthcoming MSI Press LLC book? Contact editor@msipress.com.
Want an author-signed copy of this book? Purchase the book at 25% discount (use coupon code FF25) and concurrently send a written request to orders@msipress.com.Julia Aziz, signing her book, Lessons of Labor, at an event at Book People in Austin, Texas.
Want to communicate with one of our authors? You can! Find their contact information on our Authors' Pages.Steven Greenebaum, author of award-winning books, An Afternoon's Discussion and One Family: Indivisible, talking to a reader at Barnes & Noble in Gilroy, California.MSI Press is ranked among the top publishers in California.
Check out our rankings -- and more -- HERE.
Comments
Post a Comment