Tips for an Enchanting Fragrance Garden

       T'Mara Goodsell Freise

It is said that scent evokes memory better than any sense we have.   Very true, I think, but in my case the opposite is also true.  My fragrance garden was unintentionally begun when I sought to plant the flowers I remembered best from my childhood—the plants from my grandparents’ tiny yard.  “Find any fairies in the garden?” my grandfather would tease, and I’d search from up in the lilacs to below the lilies-of-the-valley hoping to catch sight of one, sniffing the beguiling fragrances all the way.  Even that garden, I suspect, was unintentionally fragrant.  The plants were simply old-fashioned varieties that hadn’t yet had the scent hybridized out of them in favor of greater hardiness or more colorful bloom.

Just the other day, I accidentally brushed the leaves of our tomato seedlings as I was telling the children I’d never grown vegetables before.  When the pungent scent of the foliage hit my nostrils like fairy dust, the memories it conjured up seemed to appear like magic.   I had planted tomatoes once, when I was so small I had forgotten.  Vivid scenes of my grandfather taking me to pick out tomato plants and patiently showing me how to plant and care for them drifted through my mind with each whiff of those summer-scented leaves.  That is the power, the enchantment, and the lure of the fragrance garden.

Scent adds a whole new dimension to gardening.  To me, choosing plants for scent not only gives me some limit among the seemingly infinite number of wonderful choices; it’s like finding a garden fairy nestled among the leaves.  Varied, fickle, and often elusive, scent gives a plant that added charm that sets it apart from the rest.

Here, then, are a few tips on appreciating the magic of fairies…I mean, fragrance in the garden:

1. Be willing to look like an idiot at the garden center.  Just as you’d look like a fool searching for fairies, you may look like a fool searching for fragrance.  Who cares if you resemble a bloodhound?  You are quite literally stopping to smell the roses, and that is worth whatever it takes.   Even if that means bending, crawling, or climbing to find them in the first place.  Sniff everything.  Lightly brush foliage.  I have yet to have a nurseryman get mad at me for touching the plants, and one even instructed me to crush Pelargonium (Scented geranium) foliage more.  Those who were born to garden will always understand.

2. Better yet, search with a friend who understands. 
Two people can laugh at each other without looking as if they’ve escaped from an asylum.  Be sure to take a friend who isn’t afraid to tell you there’s pollen on your nose.  Better yet, take one who’ll brush it off for you.  Take a friend who brings tissues.

3. Don’t allow yourself to be fooled by imposters.  In other words, if scent is the reason you are buying a plant, buy nothing “scent unsmelled.”  I’ll never forget the Calycanthus (Carolina Allspice) I ordered from a bargain catalog.  When it finally came into bloom, my “Sweetshrub” turned out to be a sour shrub; it smelled like vinegar!   Since then, I’ve found out that many varieties of Calycanthus--especially those grown from seed—are either unscented or improperly scented.  Buy from a reliable source, get a cutting from a friend, or buy the plant when it’s in bloom.

4. Don’t be fooled by advertising.  With fragrance gardening on the increase, lots of catalogs like to declare, “One plant will perfume a whole garden!”  Usually, they do smell good.  Usually, they don’t perfume a whole garden.  Worse yet, “scented” doesn’t always mean pleasantly scented.  There was the “Highly scented!”  Iberis (Candytuft) I grew from seed, anticipated with glee, thrust my nose into with fervor, and recoiled from in horror.  Essence of Baby Spit Up.  Exactly.

5. Do be fooled by advertising.  Sometimes.  Okay, I know— but sometimes you just have to take risks, especially if the stakes aren’t too high.   I’m thinking here of the Dianthus ‘Rainbow Loveliness’ seed packet that exclaimed, “Quite possibly the most fragrant flower on earth!”  Even then I didn’t believe it, but what would it hurt?  After all, I had lived through the Baby-Spit-Up experience, even if the Candytuft hadn’t.   I planted the tiny seeds, babied the teeny seedlings, put up with the somewhat stringy foliage, waited with trepidation, and then, ONE YEAR later they bloomed and…nothing.  I was disgusted.  Then happened out in the evening, when a cool breeze blew across their fringed petals….  It is a scent I cannot possibly describe.  Subtle yet-riveting, herbal-yet floral, it is a fresh scent that could offend no one.  It is the scent of meadows, of mountaintops—a scent that makes you want to stop and take a deep breath and rejoice in life itself.  Most fragrant flower on earth?  I doubt I’d go that far, but massed along a path, they do create a scent I think heaven should smell like.

6. Which brings me to this one: Know that what you seek must be captured at just the right time.  Just as climatic conditions can change the color of certain flowers, they also can change the scent.  To me, wisteria smells more floral in heat and more spicy (like cinnamon) in cool air.  Not only do the white flowers of Jasminum sambac grow considerably larger as the temperature rises, their haunting fragrance only seems to emanate when the humidity is high.  It may seem obvious, but as a general rule of thumb, fruity and tropical fragrances seem to drift better in heat and humidity while spicier fragrances seem to carry better on cooler, drier air.

7.  Realize that there is often a price to pay.   It is a fact of life that plants want to attract pollinators, and scented ones tend to use fragrance, rather than bold colors, to accomplish the feat.  In addition, fragrant varieties are sometimes the old-fashioned ones that haven't been bred for showiness or even disease resistance.  Some fragrant plants can even be rather scraggly, such as Osmanthus fragrans (Tea Olive), Cestrum nocturnum (Night Blooming Jessamine), and Hesperis matronalis (Dame's Rocket).  One way to get scent and bright flowers is to choose plants with scented leaves, such as the Salvia elegans (Pineapple sage).  Or you can simply enjoy the paler colors, which tend to be perceived as more relaxing.

8. Experience your garden at night.  Unlike bold-colored flowers, whites and pastels show up better after dark.   Furthermore, some of the most romantic scents aren’t released until evening.  A few favorites include the above-mentioned Cestrum, Brugmansia (Angel’s Trumpet) species, Matthiola bicornis (Night-scented stock), Mirabilis jalapa (Four o’clock), Oenothera biennis (Evening Primrose), and several Nicotiana (Flowering Tobacco) species.

9. No matter what, it might not hurt to check.  Even if you’re not buying for fragrance, sniff anyway.  I can thank the Juniperus scopulorum (Tolleson’s Weeping Juniper) for this lesson.  After admiring its unusual grace from afar all summer, it finally went on sale at the hardware store.   Assuming it would smell crisp and loading it into the cab of my car, since the drooping branches precluded using the trunk.  During the struggle, I became increasingly horrified.  The beloved juniper, so elegant from a distance, smelled just like unwashed armpits.  The “B.O. Tree” was fortunately intended for a far corner of the yard, but I still had to drive home with all the windows down and my head hanging halfway out like a spaniel.

      The older I get, the more important having a fragrance garden becomes to me.   I think it’s because it not only reminds me of my grandfather, but also of his wisdom.   He knew that a garden, like life, is not something to be idly viewed from a distance, but something to be experienced up close, and with all of the senses. 

Even if you never have a fragrance garden, here is what I wish for you:   May you always have fairies in your garden.   And even if you never see them--may you always continue to look.