day...... #30#.......83

If you ever worked at a newspaper, that means something

     Renee, Sharon, Lonny, Jean may remember that.
     In the olden days, before computers, reporters ended their stories with 30.  Or ##.  Sometimes both. That told editors the writer was done.
     Well.....something is at an end today.
     I'm not atalking about the trip to London.  That's been dead a while.  Our plane would be somewhere over Greenland by now, by the way.
    I'm talking lilacs.
    I love the smell of lilacs.  For the past 2 weeks, our house has smelled of them with fresh cuttings from our lilac bush.
     But now, the blooms are faded and falling. 
     Years ago we used to go to Mackinac Island right after school was over for the summer.  It was always around Lilac Festival time on the island.
     We would walk the main street, have ice cream, sample fudge, step in horse poop...all the fun things.
     I always had to have fresh whitefish.  Every night.  We usually stayed three nights, and I would have whitefish three different ways....grilled, broiled, and my favorite...baked on a plank.
     I'd ride the island road, which this year was severely damaged by high water  in the lake and heavy erosion. 
     We'd sit on the porch of the Metevier Inn, sometimes I'd have a glass of wine, usually afternoon tea.  Both of us reading and smelling the lilacs.
     I loved going there.  I even thought that one summer we could work and live there.  The kids were old enough to be on their own, and we usually had no major summer trips planned.
     The lilac smell always brought a smile to my face at the memory of those halcyon days.
     Now I have to wait until next year, because the lilacs are 30.    ##.
     Stay healthy.  Stay safe.  Stay masked.
Peace and Love