At the corner of our house, between two suburban lots lives the harbinger of spring: that heady, scented, intoxicating bloom star jasmine.
Against clear blue skies, the contrast of buds at the ready, the plant will burst into bloom any day. When it does, I’ll find myself lingering by the drive, taking in the scent and savoring it for as long as possible. Jasmine evokes the approach of summer. It puts a bounce in my step. I feel alive, connected and even amorous when it blooms.
Is it any wonder they’ve tried to bottle and sell it?