Why are the cute, simple-looking flowers of Jasminium officinale so intensely, madly loved in the world over? Is it because they simply look and smell very pretty? Of course not. Jasmine is adored because of the exceptional heart inside, which it expresses in unrestrained manner through its fully fragrant breath.
I got my J. officinale plant last summer, and was simply happy that it produced a couple of flowers at that time, since firstly jasmine is rare to come across in England because it’s not naturally the best climate for it, and secondly it was a young, unestablished plant when I bought it. This summer however, the shrub had been progressively blossoming like a firework throughout June. On my birthday the 9th of June, my jasmine plant too had 9 flowers as though a gift. By mid June it had about 20 flowers and towards the end of the month it had too many to count. It was really very impressive, and the flowers are like sweet splashes of fresh cream gleaming against the lemon and lime leaves of my variety, ‘Fiona Sunrise’.
Jasmine then, at least in this country, seems to have an affinity with June the month of Early Summer, and blesses it with a shady, dewy coolness before the season must intensify. The dewiness I am talking about is really like moon-dew at midnight sparkling on overgrown garden grass, and bubbles sweetly popping like kisses as they let go against the night sky. The moon encaptured in the jasmine blossom is something like soft cheese for wonderful dreams indulgent in their etherealness, while the lunar light is silvery and pearlescent like jewellery close to one’s heart. The whole quality of the scent is cool yet tender, like a loving whisper or delicate moonbeams dancing off smooth, enchanting woods in a lovely play between sacred earth and sweet heaven. In an uplifted bliss the final thing I see is the flicker of a dragonfly’s gossamer wings wet with lake-water, sparkling like a fey.