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One recent Sunday
morning, I set out with coffee cup in hand to inspect the waterlilies in the
lower garden. Halfway down the steps beside the house I was stopped in my tracks
by the overpowering aroma of jasmine that rolled up with each bit of breeze
like waves on the coastal rocks. I just stood there awestruck for a moment.
I had never experienced the strength of jasmine like that before.
The plant is Jasminum officinale, the common, white Poet’s Jasmine.
I planted it three years ago in a sheltered site protected by the brick walls
of the house on the north and a horseshoe-shaped bay of rock wall on the west.
It gets a bit more than half sun. The soil is sandy and well drained, but I
am careful to water it regularly in dry weather. It is now about fifteen feet
high, climbing a trellis and a drainpipe and dripping its lacy, divided leaves
in a green cascade of foam. The chickadees love to perch in its shelter while
they argue about who gets the next turn at the feeder. This is the first year
that it has had much in the way of bloom—just lots of leaves on whippy
stems. I guess it needed time to settle in before it could flower. But it’s
thriving now and I am going to have a big pruning job next February to try to
keep it from obscuring the windows!
I have a great sentimental attachment to this plant as it is the last gift from
a gardening friend who died of cancer in the spring of 2000. I regard it as
a lasting memento of all the plants (and laughs and tears) that we two shared
over the years. I would treasure it even if it didn’t smell so heavenly,
if just for Tammy’s sake.
There are a number of jasmines out there, and you have to be careful which you
choose—some are not hardy in our coldest winters. They come under a couple
of Latin names—Jasminum and Gelsemium being the most
common. The Carolina Jessamine, for example, is a vining Gelsemium
with yellow flowers that appear in spring. It grows here, but be warned that
all parts of it are toxic despite it’s sweet scent. The tropicals like
Arabian Jasmine may be grown as houseplants—however, I have had terrible
luck with them since they all seem to get Red Spider Mite. A greenhouse, and
not my house, would suit them better.
Many gardeners choose their plants by the flower color or the foliage and overlook
the scent. This is a mistake. As much as I love the colors and textures, I treasure
the aromas, especially at night. Here’s a list of some other scented plants
I love to grow: Aurelian Lily, Lavender, Old Roses, Sweet Pea and Tazetta Narcissus.
Sarcococca and Witch Hazel (Hamamelis) are two fragrant winter-bloomers
worth putting in close to your doorway. The sweet whiff of their quiet blooms
can give you a real psychological boost in the dreary days of late winter. I
have bought potted Freesias to brighten the winter days but never got them to
establish outdoors. Maybe I’ll try these bulbs again next season. Like
my jasmine, their perfume is worth it.
Hortsense: Managing plant problems with Integrated Pest Management
