I was walking through the garden, on a mission to get pruners from the shed, and was struck by the scent of lilies. The fragrance lifted my spirits, slowed me down and gave me an extra spring in my step to get my task done.
I must have fragrance in my garden. Sticking my nose into a petunia with no scent is like kissing someone through a screen door. All the parts of the scene are there but not the pleasure. So I shop for petunias in the evening when they are releasing their heavenly odors and I can determine just which ones do have that velvety, cinnamon-clove essence.
Some fragrances are happy natural occurrences, such as the damp woodsy smell that wafts over you when you walk past spruces and white pines. Then there are those scents we deliberately choose. One of my all-time favorites is Oriental lily, which carries me back to the lands of my childhood fantasies, full of knights and Arabian princesses. Sleeping in a room with Stargazer lily floating in a bowl by the bedside induces wonderful dreams.
Oriental lilies are more heavily scented at night, so one year I decided to complement their scent beneath my office window with the sweet perfume of nicotiana, also fragrant in the evening. As the softness of dusk approached, the perfumes began to drift upward, teasing my nose with their embroidered odors. As the evening wore on the combined scents became heavy, cloying and more than I could stand. I no longer felt like an Arabian princess but a nine-year-old who had wandered past the dime store perfume counter, trying every cheap scent on one wrist. I moved the nicotiana.
I love placing scents so garden visitors turn their heads, looking for the source. We all know to bend over and sniff roses, but who knows that planting an overhead arbor with grapes makes wonderfully fragrant shade? Grape blossoms are sweetly scented, bringing spring weddings and flower girls to mind. Then when the grapes are fruiting, the ripe muskiness evokes another feeling entirely, that of the robust Tuscan countryside at harvest time.
Memories of people, places and times are inescapably tied to fragrance, and there’s nothing as sweet as being reminded of a favorite person or a pleasant time in one’s life by a scent on the wind. Some scents may make us melancholy, but others can lift the spirits to float on the wind. Nothing makes me hungry faster than brushing rosemary when working in the herb bed. And I always smile when I detect the perfume of freesias, which my step-mom has always put by my bed when I visit.
Fruit Shortcake
We are at the peak of summer fruit season, and nothing is so appealing as fresh fruit shortcake. Traditional shortcake is very much like a biscuit, just with a little sugar added. Use whatever fruit is in season and embellish with whipped cream, ice cream or simply a sprig of mint.
1 c. wheat pastry flour
1 c. all-purpose flour
1 T. baking powder
½ t. salt
¼ t. Soda
2 T. sugar
6 T. butter
1 c. buttermilk
Blend the dry ingredients. Cut in the butter with a fork or pastry cutter. Add buttermilk and mix lightly. Turn onto a floured board and roll out to about half an inch thick. Cut with a biscuit cutter or an upside-down glass and place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 450 for 15 minutes. Split and adorn with fruit.
Kate's Garden Kitchen 