Lilac Season: Sweet Experiments and Personal Reflections

Lilac season in Nebraska is fleeting—just a whisper of time when the air is perfumed with their delicate scent, and the world feels a bit more magical. Each year, I find myself inspired to capture that essence, to bottle up the beauty before it fades. This spring, our kitchen became a haven for lilac-infused creations, blending tradition with experimentation.

Lilac-Infused Gin & Vodka

Our first endeavor was crafting lilac-infused spirits. Using a quart-sized canning jar, I loosely filled it with ¼ to ⅔ fresh, rinsed lilac blossoms. Covering the flowers with gin or vodka, I let the mixture steep overnight. The next day, I strained out the blossoms—now pale and spent—and added a fresh ¼ jar of lilac flowers, allowing it to steep for another 4–6 hours before the final strain. The result? A beautifully aromatic spirit that pairs wonderfully with tonic or elderberry tonic, capturing the very soul of spring in a glass.

Lilac Sugar

Next, we ventured into making lilac sugar. By layering fresh lilac petals with granulated sugar in an airtight container and letting it sit for a few days, the sugar absorbed the floral notes, creating a subtly flavored sweetener. Sprinkled over yogurt or used in baking, it adds a gentle hint of lilac that elevates everyday treats.

Lilac Jelly: A Lesson in Patience (and Pectin)

Inspired by a recipe from Practical Self Reliance, we attempted lilac jelly this spring. The process involved steeping 4 cups of lilac blossoms in boiling water to create a delicate floral tea, then combining it with lemon juice, powdered pectin, and sugar before boiling and canning. (See the original recipe)

Despite following the instructions closely, our jelly didn’t set properly on the first try—it was runny and more like syrup than jelly. Determined not to waste it, we reprocessed the batch, adjusting the pectin. The result was somewhat firmer, but still not quite the consistency I was aiming for.

That said, the flavor? Still beautiful.

It’s especially nice spooned over an English muffin or swirled lightly into my morning yogurt. While this jelly doesn’t send my blood sugar completely over the edge, it definitely comes close. So next time, I’ll be on the lookout for a lower-sugar version. We’ll experiment again next spring—or maybe I’ll try my hand at rose jelly and see if we do better on both texture and glucose impact.

Rooted + Real: Learning to Sweeten Life Differently

The day after my 50th birthday, I landed in the ER with a blood sugar of 614. It was during the height of the pandemic, and there wasn’t room to admit me. They stabilized me and sent me home with orders to follow up.

I threw myself into it at first—tracking every carb, weighing every bite, doing everything by the book. But over time, the “rules” wore me down. It felt like I had to give up everything I enjoyed, and honestly? I got mad. I stopped trying for a while.

These days, I'm finding my way back—not with all-or-nothing thinking, but with curiosity. Foods affect every diabetic differently. For me, store-bought buns are a hard no, but homemade pasta in small amounts? That works. Chocolate? Surprisingly okay. Corn syrup? Absolutely not.

We still make sweet things in our kitchen. I just test how they affect me and tweak from there. It’s not perfect—but it’s progress. And that’s what matters.

Finding Sweetness in the Season We’re In

This spring wasn’t perfect. The jelly didn’t quite set. Some recipes might need reworking. And my blood sugar is still a work in progress. But that’s the beautiful thing about both lilac season and life—they invite us to keep showing up, even if we don’t get it right the first time.

Whether it’s adjusting a recipe, rethinking what “sweet” means, or learning to listen to your body instead of fighting with it—there’s always another season. Another bloom. Another chance to try again.

We’ll be back next spring, experimenting with lilacs—or maybe roses—and continuing this journey, one small spoonful at a time.

Lilac Jelly / Lilac spirits