Growing up I was surrounded by the wonderful, pervasive scent of wild honeysuckle. It was everywhere and I adored its constant sweet perfume. Now I only see it growing unchecked along the creek banks; no one seems to value it, either for its scent or for the bees. “It takes over” is all I ever hear. When we first got married we had a housewarming party and had not yet done any landscaping. But the one thing we did have — covering the entire length of our fence all the way down to the alley — was this beautiful blanket of green ivy. Oh I was so proud of it! I thought to myself, at least we have that. During the party one of my new aunts by marriage came up to me and pulled me discreetly outside. Looking in either direction she trained her gorgeous blue eyes on me and said, with her subtle Arkansas accent, “Sweetie, I hate to tell you, but THIS is poison IVY!” I just stood there embarrassed and dumbfounded that the one thing growing so prolifically at our house turned out to be poisonous. As I looked on in slack-jawed stupor she turned to put a consoling hand on my arm and said, “Well, it’s the FINEST poison ivy I’ve ever seen!” And then I knew she was not only stunningly beautiful but gracious as well. Kindness, and forthrightness, I’ve learned is a rarity. Needless to say we had some man come out a few days later and pull it all up by the roots. But I digress. When I got my tax return the next spring I asked my husband if he would mind me spending it on some landscaping for the other side of our house. It faces a creek and has wrought iron bars. My sweet husband not only said yes, he gave me his tax return money to put with it. I told the landscape guy I cared first and foremost about smell. Color without smell in a garden is meaningless to me, and frankly quite sad. So he suggested Star Jasmine, saying it was right for our soil, climate, and would not guzzle water since I am always concerned about the environment. In India jasmine is known as the “Queen of the Night”. I cannot tell you the immense amount of joy those plants have given me. We have six vines that have wound their way between our metal fence posts, growing and spreading up and over onto our stone pillars. Delicately bathing the entire side of our house with a subtle scent, it rises ripe with promise … even more so when the wind blows. The Irish poet Thomas Moore wrote:
“Plants that wake while others sleep, from timid jasmine buds that keep, their fragrance to themselves all day, but when the sunlight dies away, let the delicious secret out, to every breeze that roams about.”
I love our jasmine during the day … but at night she has stars that bloom.
