‘The true vesper flowers, those that withhold their sweetness from the day and give it freely to the night are rather a curious company. Few have any daytime attractions…But with twilight comes an extraordinary change.’ The Fragrant Path, Louise Beebe Wilder.
In the plant world there is a certain sweetness that comes with vespertine air- a scent all too unfamiliar to the world of the light, but familiar to that of the night. A sweetness beyond expectation that rarefies the cool dark air, calling forth night creatures to drink in the dark, an ambrosia by moonlight. A scent that only moths and bats will find edifying in the deep darkness, a flower from which a musty scent pours forth. Indeed, the midnight air is the rarest of scents, as it is the one least sampled to the human nose.
To tell the truth, many flowers are night scented, from daphne to lily, jasmine to tuberose. However, many of the former are fragrant by day as well, and even open during it. True vespertine flowers are only identifiable at twilight, and redolent by dark fall. Of the most common are flowering tobacco, followed by Angel’s trumpet and night-jasmine- all others are either too uncommon, or scented as well on darker days. But to the night, these flowers call forth, haunting as a silent witness to the floral wonders of the world. Only a certain few astound and amaze, but all stand as a guardian, a watch in the night.
Rosa x damascena. Kurt Stüber. 2004. Wikimedia Commons.
“We cannot dissociate fragrance and the rose….Beautiful as is the rose it is only half appreciated by the eye; the nose has a great part in our delight in it and ever has had. ” Wilder, The Fragrant Path.
Roses are the Queen of flowers, and no nose cannot have said to have tried one where they will grow. The scent of the rose is a scent so universal to gardens, it is the language of olfactory love. Where the sun shines, and the soil is willing, where the climate is not too harsh or torrid, a rose will grow. Life and love both would be devoid of languor without the scent of a rose on a sunny summer afternoon in the hand of a sweetheart. From perfumes to bouquets, this is a flower that is everywhere, and why not appreciate it in all senses?
There are so many varieties to grow, so many hybrids, so many cultivars, all oriented to the gardener. A rose is a rose does not hold to the nose. The tea rose may be for florists, the Damascus rose for the perfumer, and the Gallic rose for the apothecary, but there is always room for at least one rose in the garden, even if for a dainty knockout rose. In a world competing for scents, the rose holds the prize for the larger part of the world, even if there are unfortunately more unscented hybrids and cultivars these days than those with scent. While the perfume may be only for the refined nose now, it still “remains pure, uncloying, and sweet to the last whiff, nor does it lose its sweetness in death,” Wilder.
The best loved roses cannot be labelled based even on scent alone. There are so many cultural considerations to take into account, and of course the visual aspect. However, in the garden, warmth and moisture are important factors in flower fragrance. The sweetest fragrance is a morning affair when the moisture is high, the strongest fragrance is a midday affair, when the sun is high, but this is only the beginning of complexities of the rose fragrance. Truth be told, one could smell a different fragrance from the same plant given the time of day and atmosphere- roses are just that playful with the nose! What flower then is more universal to the earth, than that of the rose? What flower can compete, can win as many hearts, as the rose?
Summer is all about warmth in the Northern Hemisphere, and come July, most parts of it are baking! This is when having a warm-season annual at your disposal is all too handy, as they can bake in the long sun and heat, and stay perfect as long as the season lasts, granted you water them of course! Not many of the hardy summer annuals are fragrant, or like Petunias, they are more fragrant when the sun is down, but these beauties will work for the heat and sun lover in all of us.
First are Marigolds. Marigolds are a universal summer bloomer, and are particularly popular in the Eastern United States as bedding annuals. I hardly know of a garden without any for the long summer haul. The whole species are Mexican natives, lending to their popularity in the Western hemisphere, I presume. The species most commonly used in gardens are T. erecta and T. lucida in the United States, but T. patula is more popular than the two for perfumery and culinary purposes, particularly in Europe and the Middle East. The scent of Marigolds is hard to pinpoint, as it is a resinous, herb-like aroma, with a pungeance that is very well received on the palate. Its a perfect mixture of herb, woods, and sweet, and blends well in teas, spices, and most importantly, perfumes. It is said to give an apple-like note in some mixtures, but it stands out much more as being woodsy to my nose.
Marigolds are fairly easy to grow, just preferring a full-sun and well-drained location. They are fairly hardy as well, and can be reseeded.
Related are Calendulas, another wonderful garden addition, with its own spicy herb mix to add to the gardens. They are not as fragrant as Marigolds, but are used also as salad garnishes. A yellowish dye can be distilled from these European natives.
Centaurea cyanus. Johnathan J. Stegeman. 20 May 2007. Wikimedia Commons.
A weedy annual grown more for color and medicinal value than scent is Cornflower. Endangered in its natural habitat and hated everywhere else, this little weed came out of obscurity from the British Isles. Now, Cornflower is a popular garden annual, particularly in Europe and the United States; and it is used to add flowers to summer and wildflower mixes, and makes for a nice cut flower as well. Several cultivars exist in colors from violet to pink. It has a light sweet scent, that is only detectable when the nose is thrown into a bouquet of it, and it adds nice color and flavor to herbal teas and salads.
Iberis sempervirens. Heron2. Wikimedia Commons.
If sweet alyssum is reserved more for cool weather gardens, then Candytuft is its warm weather sister. This small Southern European annual gets taller than sweet alyssum and does not spread as easily. The plants look similar and give a similar feel, but candytuft is more apt to take the heat. It has a similar scent without the cloying ability of sweet alyssum. It is a perennial in warmer and drier environments (i.e. without wet winters with hard freezes). I prefer it to sweet alyssum in look and scent.
Mirabilis jalapa. Woodlot. 9 August 2010. Wikimedia Commons.
Lastly, no mention of summer fragrant annuals should be made without including four o’clocks. These are the complete opposites of morning glories, as they open in the late afternoon and drop by sunrise, but not without leaving a sweet scent to boot. Four o’clocks are native to the Andes mountains in Peru, but are planted widely throughout the tropics. Four o’clocks feature an interesting ability to have multiple colored flowers on the same plant, and same flower even, but are not quite large enough to have a substantial impact on the garden. These summer bloomers are reliable as well, flowering up until the first frosts. In warmer environments, Four o’clocks shamelessly self-seed throughout gardens, becoming invasive.
Four o’clocks have a wonderful sweet evening scent, not reminiscent of the night bloomers, but more like a nice lily and orange blossom aroma. These are interestingly useful plants as well, having a whole list of medicinal purposes in their native environment.
So ends my break of annuals and back to the summer perennials and shrubs! Hopefully Lilies will come in the next few days- I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least hit daylillies and Asiatics soon!
June is a most fragrant month, so I thought I would start with one of my most beloved fragrant flowers. Dianthus, also known as pinks, give us the wonderful Carnations ( D. caryophyllus). They also give many wonderful garden pinks, including Sweet William, all with the same wonderful, warm, clove-like fragrance. Pinks are mostly perennials; growing to be up to two feet tall, but usually under this, with small, silvery leaves, pink to mauve flowers, with five frilly petals, and distinct stamens. There are a great many crosses in this genera, but they do well in well-drained and rocky soils with full sun.
The best known varieties are D. barbatus, D. caryphyllus, D. gratianopolitanus. D. monspessulanus, and D. superbus.
Sweet Williams are known as D. barbatus. These are popular garden pinks, but not as fragrant as the others. These pinks have nice, frilled edges, and come in a variety of colors (red to white and every shade in between.) They are one of the few pinks that can be deadheaded to repeat flower display. They are a bit hardier in the garden than the others, and come in several wonderful shades of color.
D. barbatus. Cereales Killer. Wikimedia Commons.
D. caryophyllus is the species that gives us the florists’ carnation. These plants are thought to be native to the Mediterranean region but are grown in hothouses and gardens the world over. Carnations are a quite typical bouquet filler, and have far too many semblances to name here. Most have all but lost their fragrance sadly, but are still the most popular of the group.
D. gratianopolitanus. Ghislain118. Wikimedia Commons.
Cheddar pinks, D. gratianopolitanus, are easily the most fragrant of the bunch. They have the typical clove-pink smell, but are most free with it in the garden I have found, particularly at evening. While not as impressive in flower, they certainly make up with the scent! Many wonderful crosses and cultivars are available including ‘firewitch’. These pinks more than all other cannot stand wet feet, preferring alpine conditions above all others.
D. monspessulanus are the rarest of crosses, but also the frilliest petals. They are also generous with their scent.
Lastly, many hybrids are available of D. superbus. These feature larger leaves, flowers, and larger growth than others of the family. They are almost as fragrant as D. gratianopolitanus, and thrive in warmer climates to boot! I remember being a part of the All-American seed trials at the University of Kentucky testing some of these cultivars out. The only complaint to be had was their capacity to over-seed in the garden! The hybrids have not caught on quite yet but are surely to be more popular in the future!
The Sweet Williams are most accustomed to gardens, but any will thrive in rocky gardens, being the first among many strange rock garden collection flowers of choice.
The University of Kentucky Arboretum. all-americaselections.org.
“The bouquet of the garden on a June day is rich and heterogeneous. Turn this way and that and the nose is accosted by wave after wave of sweetness from the rose, iris, honeysuckle, mock orange, peony, pink, and besides these chief distillers, any of which we should count as good for a month’s allowance of perfume, there are many lesser alembics at work transmuting their juices into enchanting airs.”
– The June Garden, The Fragrant Path, Louise Beebe Wilder.
“In June, the world is a perfume bottle and aromas surround unsuspecting olfactory organs from all sides; a gardener can easily drown in the overwhelming redolence…June may be sparkling, or it might be splattered with thundershowers. Either way, it’s never a shy month. The long days of the summer solstice are accented by some of the most extravagant blossoms known to man.”
– The Essence of Paradise, Tovah Martin.
If there were any month gardeners in the Northern hemisphere prize above all others, it would have to be June. No month is as fragrant or bright, where every space of the garden is teeming with sunshine, verdant growth, and blooms. June is the month that brings roses to the North, magnolias to the South, and gardenias to patios everywhere. Fields are overcome with lillies of all sorts, while herbs like lavender and rosemary grace knot gardens in the finest estates. Stephanotis clambers up greenhouse and florist store walls, and passionflowers on outdoor arbors. Yes, it is true, June is overwhelming to the senses, as long days and short nights bring the best out of plant life.
I like to think that Stephen Foster wrote ‘my old Kentucky home’ during the month of June, as the sun shines a brilliant brightness in my state during this month in particular. ‘Tis summer, the people are gay as the old tune goes and while corn tops may not be ripe yet, meadows will never be more in bloom during these longest of days. June is for romance, long walks on humid nights, heat lightning paired with the scent wafting from Gardenia. No season outdoors can compare, to that of the June air.
There are many copycats in the plant world, between plant families in particular, but also those outside. Both Paulownia and Catalpa share a similar look, growth habit, and flower shape- which is why I decided to lump the two together in one post. Oh and their fragrances are nearly identical as well. They are in different plant families and come from different areas, but with similar ecoregions.
Lets start with Catalpas. Catalpa is native to the Eastern U.S. and Caribbean, with a few species in Asia as well. The trees grow up to sixty feet and have large, heart-shaped leaves, and large, foxglove-like flowers. The flowers are followed by long, cigar-shaped bean pods. The wood of the tree is soft and branches rather brittle. The tree makes a wonderful specimen planting for its showy nature, but the seed pods are difficult to clean up after winter.
The two American species are the most popularly planted. C. bignonioides is the Southern Catalpa, native to central Alabama, but planted largely throughout the Eastern U.S. C. speciosa, the Northern Catalpa, is native to the Mississippi and Ohio river confluence region, but is also widely grown throughout the Eastern U.S. The trees are identical, save for the Northern Catalpa is less floriferous, but has larger, and more fragrant flowers. Northern Catalpa is also slightly more hardy, but both are hardy to zone 5. The fragrance is described as being sweet-pea like, but I tend to think it more on a jasmine side. In either case, it is sweet, but a fragrance that does not lend itself to spreading through air. The trees bloom from May to June, maybe as early as April in zones 8-9, and as late as July in zone 5.
Paulownia tomentosa. Famartin. Wikimedia Commons.
Paulownia, or Princess tree, is a stately tree in a landscape, but is unfortunately invasive in the Southeastern U.S. One drive down Interstate 75 from London, Kentucky to Knoxville, Tennessee is enough to verify this. It is another Asian native, with cultural significance in China and Japan, where the Genus originates. Paulownia is nearly identical to Catalpa, but grows larger, and flowers earlier in spring, with purple flowers that are larger than Catalpa blooms. The winged seeds come in egg-shaped capsules born after flower dessication. The trees have this distinction of producing extremely large leaves when in its early-growth stages, or after the tree is cut back. In these years, the tree does not flower.
The flowers are a light lavender color, blooming in mid-to-late April and early May for two weeks (Catalpa blooms later in the season for much longer). The fragrance takes a cue from Catalpa, but throws in a strong vanilla fragrance to boot, and unlike Catalpa, generously fills the garden with its scent. The wood from Paulownia has a strong significance in Japanese art as well, and is one of more the more utilized woods for crates and chests, as it is very light and workable, much like Catalpa. Lastly, it does have agroforestry uses, but is best in its home range in China and Japan.
If one were to compare the use of the trees side-by-side, its best to air with Catalpa in the states, as its native to the region, and has more colorful flowers.
Well May has come to and end, and I’m sad about how many plants I didn’t get to this month but there is always the future right? Tomorrow will be a post about the wonderful month of June and what plants to expect then!
In the Horticultural world, flowers often have to choose between color and fragrance, but Wisteria is one big exception to the rule. What I mean by this is, most colorful flowers, particularly blues and purples, are not fragrant; but white and yellow flowers often are. The reasons for this have to do with pollination and pollinator attraction. Wisteria is an exception to this rule, as it relies on color and fragrance to attract pollinators, as well as us to grow it!
If any one flower has the power to dazzle in spring, look no further than Wisteria. Not only does it grow to be a large vine, (one plant can cover over an acre in size) but it puts on a show stopping floral display that is unequalled. The colors can be white, purple, blue, violet, or pink, and shades of yellow around the sexual organs. Mostly grown are the Chinese and Japanese varieties, W. sinensis and W. floribunda respectively, for show and fragrance. The main differences are that the Chinese variety have shorter racemes of 3-5 inches, and twine counterclockwise, while the Japanese (floribunda) variety have racemes nearly two feet in length and twine clockwise. Otherwise the plants are nearly identical in height and stature, with bipinnate verdant green leaves, long seedpods, and the ability to take over everything in their way!
Wisterias are native to Eastern Asia (Northeast China and Japan) with a few species in the United States. The Asian varieties open in late April to early May before or with the leaves, and bloom up to a month depending on weather. The fragrance of the Asian varieties is between grape and violet, much like Black Locusts that tend to bloom at the same time. This makes sense given they are all part of the same family (Legumes). The Chinese Wisterias tend to be more forthright with fragrance than the Japanese, particularly the Alba variety.They are hardy to zone 5 and will grow in nearly any condition of soil, although they have a preference for moist humus. Wisteria sinensis. Nadiatalent. Wikimedia Commons.
One word of caution must be said about growing Asian varieties of Wisteria in the Eastern United States- they are horribly invasive in the Southeast, throttling many forests in the Piedmont and Coastal plain regions. Another word of caution must be said about growing them in gardens- these vines are extremely heavy! If you plan to grow either W. sinensis or W. floribunda, give it a concrete or steel-framed structure for support, or risk a mature vine tearing up your pergolas or house siding in a few years. They do take a few years to mature, up to twenty to bloom, but the process can be expedited by cutting the trunk and growing in drought conditions. Also the seeds are poisonous, so plan to remove the pods as they form unless you want to clean up seeds and sprouts every year and risk pets and children being poisoned. As a matter of fact, I would actually suggests that we leave these specimens to well-to-do gardens and botanical gardens since they are often more appreciable when grown by others!
Lastly, there are varieties native to the Eastern United States that are not invasive like their Asian brothers, and I suggest planting these instead as they are just as lovely, and much more manageable; even blooming earlier in their lives than their Asian kin. The vines themselves grow to only half the size, but unfortunately, so do the racemes of flowers. The American Wisteria, Wisteria frutescens, grows in many forests in the Eastern United States and makes for lovely bonzai specimens. The bloom window is later in May and into June, but shorter, and the flowers are not very fragrant, and carry soapy overtones. The Kentucky Wisteria, Wisteria macrostachya is not pleasantly fragrant, but is our one true blue Kentucky native outside our UK basketball team! Now if only the flowers were UK blue to match…
There are other Wisterias out there, some blooming later in the summer that are also pleasantly fragrant, and some with repeat blooms. They have overall made a wonderful impression on Oriental arts, and I cannot help but to think of Chinese vases or Japanese plates with Wisteria blooms bedecking them.
Syringa vulgaris. Adrian Pingstone. Wikimedia Commons.
For northern gardeners, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Watching day after day, as buds swelled from April into May, until one morning a squalid purple flower peaks out. Excitedly you say, spring has come, and with the warmth of May. Days go by, and more and more of the little four-petaled flowers open into a giant cluster; and finally there it is- the sweetness beyond compare. One that penetrates the garden, creating a feeling of nostalgia, and nirvana at the same time.
For many people, Lilacs are the most memory stirring of all the flowers. The scent is so full, but so innocent; of bright-eyed days when one could easily bury their nose into a whole cluster without a single care in the world. The big bunches of flowers at your grandmother’s house you remember from your childhood are enough to flood the heart with emotions. This is a scent that pulls at the strings of the heart until the eyes are wet with tears. It leaves no prisoner, as time and time again we catch a whiff, and are transported back to the heart of a gentle youth, without a care.
Lilacs are a sweetness that exceeds explanation. Its violet-like sweet, with a touch of spice, a touch of wine, but still something more. Clean linens, grandmother’s cabinets, a fine ladies toiletries collection. No, that still doesn’t capture it. It is youth, beauty, purity, worth the whole long Northern winter just to catch the scent if but only for a moment.
Lilacs are a Northerner’s love- they just cannot grow in the south beyond zone 6. Some lesser scented hybrids are out there that will take the heat, but they are not as attractive or fragrant, save for the Persian Lilacs. Lilacs grace every well-to-do garden of the cooler parts of Europe, and the northern tier of the states. This makes sense given that Lilacs used in gardens are a cross of European varieties. Some hybrids have Asian crosses, but none are nearly as big, scented, or beautiful as the French Lilac, Syringa vulgaris. Single or double, white or purple, long tresses or small clusters, these cultivars rein supreme.
Older shrubs grow to be small trees, but many are manageable as shrubs. The leaves are heart shaped and a light green, making for an attractive shrub even outside of bloom- but its clearly the bloom that makes the spectacle. My favorites are the double whites for form, and the classic purple for fragrance. Fragrance is very similar in all, but not universal. White lilacs are crisper and more delicate, whereas the purple hybrids are full-bodied and robust. Either way, catching a cluster of lilacs on the breeze is a sensation that can only be rivaled by heaven. Given that they are of the Olive family, the same family that gives jasmine, osmanthus, and several other lovely fragrant plants, its no wonder they astound and astonish.
Syringa reticulata. USDA NRCS. Wikimedia Commons.
There are several cultivars and hybrids to choose from outside the French and Persian crosses. Grown frequently are the ‘Miss Kim’ Lilacs, which are chosen for warmer areas, but they lack the wonderful full-bodied scent and beautiful flowers of the French varieties. Also commonly grown is the Japanese Tree Lilac, Syringa reticulata. It has a sweet scent as well, but is very cloying like its cousin the privet. It grows to be an actual tree size rather than a large shrub, but makes for a nice ornamental tree nonetheless.
Wherever this spring finds you, take the time out of love for the nose to appreciate the sophisticated Lilac scent. Its a scent sweet, beyond compare.
While most of the entries this month focus on temperate plants that break the winter monotony, there are quite a few southern bloomers also gracing the countrysides, swamps, and gardens with their respective fragrances. Devilwood is one of them, and is our only native Osmanthus; a genus I’ve already written about, and one of my personal favorites. In addition to being called devilwood, its also known as wild olive, as its an Olive family relative, and produces leaves, flowers, and even fruits resembling olives. It grows shorter and less gnarled than the venerable olives of the Mediterranean, only eeking out thirty feet in its native environment. Its native to the deep South as well as parts of Mexico, but is hardy to zone 6b.
The reason why I included this particular Osmanthus apart from the species is that its one of the few that is hardy in my area, and is different enough in scent and flowering time than the rest of the species to deserve its own spot. The devilwood flowers in my area in late April, and like the rest of its relatives has a strong fruity scent, although this one is more charcoal-grilled peaches, whereas the others are strongly apricot. Its very definitive for an Osmanthus, being smoky, but still fruity, and it carries well on the wind. There are a few around Lexington, the best one being outside the UK greenhouse across the street from the Veterans Hospital. It blooms alongside a type of broom, and the scent combination of the two on the nose is pure paradise!
Also the flowers of this species are different in that they grow in axial spikes rather than terminal clusters like O. fragrans. The flowers are slightly larger however, and make more impact in bloom therefore.
Truth be told, the South has been neglected this month compared to the middle sections of the country. Plants in the south have had more time to bloom and are now beginning their summer displays, with gardenias and Asian jasmine scenting every garden from Miami to Houston to Wilmington, NC. I usually cover many southern bloomers later, as they are used for container plants in the North anyways, but I will always be jealous of their April Gardenia displays while we have to wait for June!
While April is a month drenched in scents, sometimes its nice to have a subtle fragrance as opposed to a boisterous one in the garden. Two very lightly fragrant shrubs in my area are Fothergilla (witch alder) and Serviceberry, and they belong to the more refined and naturalized gardens in my area. Fothergilla is a shrub native to streamsides in the Appalachians and the Southeast, and features beautiful toothed leaves that turn a brilliant red in autumn, and interesting white, bottlebrush-like flowers in April. The fragrance is a light honey essence that is very accommodating in the garden, and requires nasal application to appreciate. Witch alder is hardy to zone 5. In Lexington, a nice stand is to be found outside the University of Kentucky hospital along the in-bound side of South Limestone.
Amelanchier grandiflora. Kurt Stüber. Wikimedia Commons.
Serviceberry is a group of shrubs and small trees native to the North American continent, and at least one species is found in every terrestrial part north of Central America. They often form patches in their native environment, and bloom in mid to late-April gracing the countryside with their delicate white petals. If the petals are delicate, than the fragrance is even more delicate, and depending on the species, can resemble Crabapple or pear blossoms. They are also called shadberry, and certain species produce quite delicious edible fruits, resembling blueberries in appearance and taste. Although the fragrance is not very enticing, this is one of my favorite small trees based on appearance alone, for the delicate white petals which bloom along with crabapples yet seem to last longer. Many species exist, the main garden cultivars being those of A. alnifolia and A. canadensis. Hardiness depends on species, with some as hardy as zone 3.
Fragrant Earth 