By Roger Owens
I love the smell of jasmine. It’s blooming late this season. We have several types here at our Florida home. We have Star jasmine trees, Confederate jasmine, and not a few of the ubiquitous “night blooming” species that grace our yard, effortlessly shouldering the feathery weight of their melodious Latin appellation: cestrum nocturnum. Their myriad perfumes permeate our home, where we spend many hours each day and evening outside, under an overhang, enjoying the natural beauty of our life here. Sights, sounds, and, they say, particularly smells, can bring back memories very strongly.
I love the smell of jasmine. It’s blooming late this season. We have several types here at our Florida home. We have Star jasmine trees, Confederate jasmine, and not a few of the ubiquitous “night blooming” species that grace our yard, effortlessly shouldering the feathery weight of their melodious Latin appellation: cestrum nocturnum. Their myriad perfumes permeate our home, where we spend many hours each day and evening outside, under an overhang, enjoying the natural beauty of our life here. Sights, sounds, and, they say, particularly smells, can bring back memories very strongly.
