I have so many fond memories as a child involving flowers.  Following my mother around as she carefully tended her gardens.  My paternal grandmother painstakingly digging up her daffodil bulbs to bring them with her from Pennsylvania to North Carolina.  My mother digging up and dividing her irises that had been in her own mother’s garden growing up. 

Give me the smell of lilac and I can recall every spring cutting large clumps from my neighbors’ yard to give to my teachers.  Give me the smell of a garden rose and I am immediately transported back to my maternal grandparents’ house in the summer.