I remember a frigid February morning several years ago. A group of shivering students follow me through knee-deep snow to the back corner of Littlefield Garden at the University of Maine in Orono. Our heavy feet plow a circuitous path as we stop at every shrub, every tree. I feel obliged to say something about everything. But I have a destination this morning: the Pekin lilac (Syringa pekinensis), a small tree with amber-brown bark that I know will be glowing in the early morning light. Most of my students have never experienced this sight and my step quickens in anticipation of their reactions.

As we turn into the Winter Garden, a small space devoted to trees with ornamental bark, all eyes are drawn to the tree lilac. The low sun shines directly onto the rich honey-colored trunk and branches that still bear a dusting of fresh snow. Golden light passes through the thin papery edges of the peeling outer bark. The entire tree reflects warmth.

Ahead of the group, I quickly cover the tree’s label with my hand and ask the students as they gather around the tree if they can identify it. They talk among themselves about the bark; some cannot resist the desire to touch it. “Yellow birch” is offered as a guess, prompted by the peeling bark. I point out that the bark color is different, not the yellow-brown of the native birch but a rich amber-brown. Someone else suggests cherry tree, noticing the lenticeled inner bark. A good guess, but no, all cherries have alternate leaves and this tree has opposite bud arrangement. Then I point to a single small cluster of dried scimitar-shaped seed capsules at the end of a high branch. Someone shouts “Lilac!” and the game is over.

We stand in the cold, my students and I, discussing this tree. I lecture while stomping the snow beneath my numb feet and they try to take notes with frozen fingers. I point out that Pekin lilac blooms in June, creamy white flowers in 3- to 6-inch-long panicles, and that the fragrance of the flowers is privet-like, not noticeable unless you are very close. But it is the richness and warm glow of the bark that captures their attention. Appreciation for the rest will come later, in other seasons.

Time runs out, the students leave for other classes. I sit down on a bench in the Winter Garden to admire the tree that has been the focus of this class, wondering why such a beautiful tree is so seldom seen, so little known. Unlike the popular common lilac (S. vulgaris), Pekin lilac is essentially trouble-free, not bothered by mildew or insects. In size and ornamental character, it meets the needs of the urban and residential landscape. And Pekin lilacs are tough trees. I remember seeing several of the variety “Morton” (selected for its upright habit and exfoliating bark) in a parking lot at the Morton Arboretum in the Chicago area. Planted in minimal soil volume and surrounded by asphalt, they were coping well with the hot, dry summer.

Reluctantly, I too must leave the garden. My exit, however, is not as swift or direct as that of my students. I have time to linger in the Winter Garden, pausing more than once for a last look at the lilac.

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