mountains of spirea, spilling into the yard. the tiny white confetti petals that have haunted me my entire adult life. the first house i lived in away from my parents. not a dorm room or an apartment. but a house. a beautiful 1920s wood frame house in michigan. we called it the 'white house'. i lived on the main floor and lisa lived upstairs with the sloped ceilings. with our dogs and the boys we loved. the house had a rotting front porch that tilted forward, and sheltering it from the road were huge spirea bushes. in june when they flowered it was like the house was floating on a cloud of white flowers. the white flowers and the sickly sweet scent became my early summer drug. i lived there almost 4 years. when i moved back to canada, i planted a bush at my parents. but before that plant would grow into a bush, i'd moved on again. and then 12 years ago, we moved into our little house by the lake, and as it should be, we have a yard full of spirea.