I recently returned from a trip to southern Florida, where early spring is a circus of color. Walls are draped with bougainvillea vines in the neon shades of sunset. Lipstick-red hibiscus blossoms beg to be plucked and tucked behind the ear. Bold spikes of tropical foliage punctuate the landscape, as the heady perfumes of jasmine and magnolia mingle with salt sea air.

Subtropical climates such as this are great for gardeners who crave near-instant gratification. Florida gardeners say, only half jokingly, if you drop any plant material on the ground, it will grow. And grow and grow! I witnessed someone’s discarded philodendron houseplant clambering to the top of a 40-foot palm tree. I’ve gardened in several subtropical locations, where my sweet basil plants sprung to shoulder height, and I trained hibiscus to form an arch of golden blossoms in mere weeks.

I could be happy gardening almost anywhere in the world, but to my mind, the Pacific Northwest has it all. No, we can’t cultivate citrus or hibiscus in our back yards and night-blooming jasmine is prone to freeze damage. But we’ve got crocus, snowdrops, tulips, daffodils, and all the other bulb plants that can’t take subtropical heat.

Our veggies are slow to bolt. Conifers keep our landscape green year round. An endless variety of annuals and perennials thrive in our maritime climate. And if we truly yearn for sultry, sunnier climes, Northwest gardeners can achieve a tropical look by growing windmill palms, cannas, phormium, tree ferns and succulents.

If I suddenly had to move to a climate such as Florida’s, there are many plants I would miss. At the top of the list would be the common lilac, Syringa vulgaris. Despite its name, there’s nothing vulgar about it. For a few precious weeks each spring, its lavender, white or purple panicles scent the warming air. Following an extravagant spring fling, the lilac retreats to its summer persona of unassuming shrub with soft, heart-shaped leaves.

The root of lilac’s botanical name, Syringa, is from the Greek Syrinx, for “Pipes of Pan,” since lilac shoots were once used to make musical pipes. In the 19th century, lilacs were a bittersweet symbol of loss. In his “Memories of President Lincoln,” the poet Walt Whitman speaks of picking a sprig of lilac to place on Lincoln’s coffin. In the later Victorian era, lilacs took on the happier role of flower of choice for spring brides, competing only with the rose for nuptial bouquets.

By rights, the lilac should not do well at all on Whidbey Island. It prefers an alkaline soil to our acidic terrain. Native to Asia and Eastern Europe, it likes cold, hard winters rather than our mild, maritime ones. It’s better suited to climates such as Spokane’s, yet healthy, happy lilacs abound in Western Washington.

Lilacs can be an exercise in patience. If you want instant gratification from your garden, lilacs are not your shrub. Like adolescents, some young lilacs may take years to bloom. Others flower the first year they’re planted, then may not bloom again for two or three years. Once they get started, however, it’s hard to keep a good lilac down. Plant them in a sunny spot with good drainage. If it’s one of those rare, dry springs, water during bloom and growth periods. Lilacs are relatively pest free and easy to maintain.

Here are a few tips to keep your lilac healthy: After it blooms, snip off the spent flower clusters just above the points where you’ll observe next year’s buds forming. This will give you more flowers the following years. In the fall, sweeten the soil by cultivating dolomite lime or wood ash in and around the plant’s drip line. In springtime, an application of 10-10-10 fertilizer is beneficial.

Winter is the time to cut back old or weak stems. If you’re like me, you may find it heart rending to saw off a gnarled old branch that’s been producing well for years. But doing so is rejuvenating; it opens the shrub to needed light and gives young shoots a chance to show their sweetly-scented stuff. Don’t prune back more than a third of the shrub at a time, or you’ll suffer from lack of lilac next spring!

Propagating lilacs isn’t difficult, using the layering method. Choose a stem of fairly young, flexible wood. Bend it to the ground and cover part of it with soil, leaving the last six to 12 inches exposed. Bend the tip into a vertical position and stake in place. The sharp upward bend often induces rooting, but wounding the lower side of the branch or twisting the stem to loosen the bark may help. Don’t let the surrounding soil dry out. Protect the layered stem from the ravages of romping dogs, rambunctious children and lawn mowers gone astray, and in about a month, you should see new growth.

With a minimum of care, lilacs can live a very long time. In 1865, lilacs were planted en masse in cities and towns across the northern states to commemorate the death of “Honest Abe.” Many of those 1865 Lincoln lilacs still thrive today.

Mariana Graham is an Island County-WSU Master Gardener. Contact her at artsnflowers@hotmail.com.