Fragrant Earth

Whiffs and kitsch. A good olfactory blog.

Tag Archives: bulbs


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Lilies pt. 3- Night-Fragrant Lilies

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Lilium nepalense. http://davesgarden.com.

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Lilium regale. 2007. Epibase. Wikimedia Commons.

Last in my detail of fragrant lilies are those that are only or moreso fragrant at night. The lilies in question are most fragrant or solely fragrant at night. In a sense, most lilies are more fragrant at night, but L. regale and L. nepalense are more impressive than the rest in the olfactory department, and provide a good segway into my next series of posts about night fragrant plants.

I cannot attest to having sampled L. nepalense, because it does not easily grow in Kentucky, but it is a solely night fragrant plant, and heavily so. This lily is native to the Himalayas and prefers cool and moist climates (something this area is not!) These lilies are also very different from all detailed so far in that they are stoloniferous as opposed to bulbous, and have a very unique color scheme, being green on the outside of the petal and reddish-chocolate colored on the inside. These lilies grow well in coastal California and the Pacific Northwest above zone 8, otherwise are cool-greenhouse plants.

Next is L. regale, the regal lily from China. This is a more typical lily of the family, although growing up to seven feet, with beautiful six inch flowers in white (outside petals purplish) with yellow throats. While these lilies are day fragrant, they increase at night, giving their wonderfully sweet, musky scent to the night garden (they are in the same clan as Easter lilies if that gives an indication of the fragrance.) L. regale is also one of the easiest lilies to grow in the garden, and the University of Kentucky arboretum has a few in its inner garden areas. Because these lilies are rather large, they do require staking, but are bound to be any fragrant gardener’s best friend otherwise!

Many more lily posts could be made than the three I have, but again, this is a genus that I frankly am not prepared to handle as there are so many single cultivars and hybrids that are wonderfully fragrant. Luckily, lilies are going nowhere, and many more wonderful hybrids await to be made in the gardening world! Starting next are night-fragrant flowers in my sad attempt to keep up with Tovah Martin’s The Essence of Paradise selection for July. Gardeners beware, the intense fragrance that awaits the night air.


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Everyone’s favorite forced bulb

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Lilium longiflorum. http://longwoodgardens.wordpress.com.

Throughout the year, many bulbs are forced for floral display, but nothing compares to Easter Lily production. Entire greenhouses are devoted to months of forced heating and cooling and careful timing in approach for a bumper crop production for Paschatide. All for a crop that lasts at most two weeks in a home, and three days in the Churches they adorn, before they are planted or tossed. Easter lillies are typical in Churches as are Hyacinths and Tulips for the holiday, sometimes Lilacs and pussy willows, all depending on local custom. How Lilium longiflorum came to be a symbol of Christ’s resurrection is beyond my knowledge- but since biblical times, lillies have been highly esteemed, even denoting certain passages in the bible. Although the lillies Christ talked about in Luke 12:27 was probably not a lily at all, but either a daffodil or Iris relative. They are esteemed enough to have garnered the legend that after Christ’s contemplation and prayer in the garden of Gethsemane, that lillies grew from the sweat beads that dropped from his head.

In any case, these Ryuku Islands natives have taken the world by force since their introduction to the West. They used to be called Bermuda lillies, as they were thought native to the Island since they were grown everywhere on the island and shipped to the states for cut flowers. They have an odd long bloom period that is initiated by temperature, although forcing them cuts the natural bloom period. If you happen to plant your Easter lily bulbs outdoors after their bloom, they will survive for many years in warmer climates (zone 6 and above) and bloom from April to June depending on warmth and temperatures. In my hometown, they bloom in the early summer around the summer solstice, along with other lillies of a similar type. In their native environment, they bloom irregularly during the warm season.

The fragrance is very forthright, particularly in a warm and stuffy room. One plant is sufficient to perfume a room, but apparently nobody has taken that cue- as the only way I’ve ever seen Easter Lillies is by the dozen. If allowed to only breathe the essence of one flowering bulb, one finds it really is a wonderfully warm fragrance, lacking the musk of other lillies, and reminiscent of orange blossoms without the crispness. They develop an almost hyacinth-like note when grown in warm conditions, particularly in the evening. However pleasant they may be, a few too many will cause a headache, as the fragrance becomes entirely too cloying after the fifth bulb present, and unbearable in the warm greenhouse. In a church, they get crowded out in scent by the incense and cologne of the parishioners, so it becomes surprisingly bearable in a well-spaced nave. Murraya captures the  Easter lily scent fairly well, particularly when not grown in cluster and when sampled from a single small branch.

However Easter lillies came to become what they are to the ecclesiastic world will be what it will be, but they do pair well on Orthodox Church displays of the epitaphios (winding sheet that Christ was buried in) and the base of the bodiless Cross with the pure white sheet.  They almost look like pure white angel’s trumpets ringing in the Resurrectional joy to the Myrrh-bearing women. Regardless of scent, and my lackadaisical view of them for anything except  religious decoration, they will always be a reminder of the Paschal joy that gives life to the millions of faithful. Thus I have a loving toleration of them year to year.

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Elizabeth. http://eroosje.blogspot.com/.

Happy Easter! Christ is Risen! And blessed bright week and Paschatide to all!

 


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Daffodils pt. 2- jonquils

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Narcissus jonquilla. Cillas. Wikimedia commons.

What can one say about jonquils without quoting many a poet? This is a plant known wide and far in literary circles, and can anyone blame poets for not writing such sundries about it? Jonquils are a florists treat in early spring, and the nose’s road to paradise. While they are native to Southwestern Europe, they have naturalized in temperate areas the world over, and don many the winter and spring garden. They are not as well represented in gardens as their larger brother the daffodil, but I daresay they ought to be considering their fragrance.

Jonquils and their allies, the tazetta and poet’s daffodils; are small cupped- i.e. the corolla of the daffodil (the cup) is smaller than the larger daffodil (N. pseudonarcissus), and the flowers themselves are smaller. They grow much like daffodils, but the fragrance is much more pronounced in the smaller flowers than in the larger ones, and with a much sweeter note. The small cupped daffodils of the jonquilla and poeticus tribe are used to make essential oils for perfume production in France- it is said the scent is a combination of jasmine and hyacinth, which I find to be fairly accurate according to my personal sense of smell.

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Narcissus poeticus ‘Recurvus’. Meneerke bloem. Wikimedia commons.

In terms of looks, the poeticus group is the most visually stunning of the small cups, with a tint of red in the cup compared to yellows, whites, and oranges of the others.They have a scent much like jonquils, but are more visually appealing for the garden in my opinion.  A hybrid between the tazettas (Paperwhites) and poeticus group exists called N. x medioluteus, which lacks the red tint, but does have a superb fragrance that is not as musky as paperwhites.

Filoli Gardens, in the Bay region of California, has a European style Narcissus field full of the many species listed between yesterday and today, and to catch the garden in full bloom is a delight beyond compare. The very air seems to glow with the scent and pollen of the thousands of Narcissus flowers, and the sweet Musk is truly that which is beyond compare. I was lucky to see this field in 2010 and my nose has not let me forget even after these 4 years. I would give anything to bask in the fragrance of a field of jonquils and Daffodils again! The delight to the nose is second to that of a pergola of Jasmine, and just ahead of a grouping of Ylang ylang in my mind. One note of mention, certain Narcissus are only fragrant by day, while others grow in intensity by evening. Jonquils and poeticas tend to increase towards evening, but Daffodils are paperwhites are all but scentless by sundown. Then again it is too early in the year for night fragrant gardens, but I still do find it a small inconvenience for the average working person.

Well I don’t know how the next few days will shake up in my world between the travels I plan on taking in the next few days, but if I get to them- I plan to cover Mahonia, and spring flowering Magnolia before jumping into the April bulbs.


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The many many Narcissus

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Daffodil field in South East Cornwall. Mark Robinson. Wikimedia Commons.

Daffodils are quite the common sight this time of year in the Southeast US and warmer parts of Europe (where they originate). Winter being unusually prolonged this year has halted the majority blooms from opening up until April here, which is rather unusual even for cold years as they are the first large bulbs to bloom reliably each year.The fragrance is the mid-spring fragrance I associate with spring finally having come to my part of the world, with a sweet, musky, and earthy olfactory trinity. The flowers are easy to grow and care for for the most part, and I’ve seen them growing in even the worst types of soil and still blooming reliably.

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Narcissus pseudonarcissus. Johnathan J. Stegeman. Wikimedia commons.

There are so many different types and species, that the easiest way for me to talk about them is for me to split them myself between the large cupped and small cupped species. There does exist a list of horticultural divisions of the species- check the wikipedia page for info. For the large-cupped species, the most common garden ones are N. psuedonarcissus– native to Western Europe, and growing in woodlands and crags all over the continent, wild or not. They are called wild daffodils for this reason, and lenten lilies due to their bloom period coinciding with Lent. These particular plants also last so long in the garden that one would think them native to old estates in the US as well, where a certain planting could easily be over 50 to 100 years old, surviving from the bulbs and their propagules planted so long ago.

There are many subspecies and hybrids to choose from, and they all share the characteristic earthy sweet scent with a fine musk, that even perfumes the air when grown in clusters. They come mostly in yellow and white and last for a couple weeks usually before burning out and being replaced by other bulbs.

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Narcissus minor var. conspicuus. Daniel Mosquin. http://www.botanicalgarden.ubc.ca

N. minor is the other main large-bulbed daffodil grown, and has a fragrance unlike its brother N. psuedonarcissus that is much more variable depending on the cultivar. Wilder makes note of this in The Fragrant Path, and talks about different species being scented like vanilla, magnolia, cowslips, or musk. I certainly can see all of these and have smelled enough to agree myself with this. These are often the grocery store daffodil bulbs, as they are a tad bit smaller and sweeter than N. psuedonarcissus, but not any less dazzling in the garden! Tomorrow (hopefully) I will get to the jonquils, as they are sweeter than their larger brothers. I would be remiss if March went by and I didn’t talk about them!

 


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Other early blooming bulbs

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Muscari armeniacum. Opioła Jerzy. Wikimedia commons.

I’m starting to think spring is NEVER going to get here. There is no consistency to Kentucky weather this time of year as it is, but the fact that they’re calling for yet another cold arctic blast next week with snow is pretty freaking ridiculous. I mean, not that they don’t happen around here this time of year, but this is about the 20th of these we’ve had this year. I’m over it!!! Its kind of sad when Kentucky is going to be colder than Moscow during any period of the year, particularly in spring.

Anyways, spring in my yard is almost always rung in by these pretty little bloomers above. Thus spring hasn’t hit my yard yet since they are not up, but I’m going to talk about them anyways! They are a Hyacinth relative, not just in name, but in clade; and are easily confused with their relatives Leopoldia and Pseudomuscari (also fragrant early bloomers.)  Many of the plants in the genus turn out to be weeds in my neck of the woods, but alas, they are a fragile, fragrant early beauty. They are also called Musk Hyacinths for their scent, which at least for M. armeniacum is not that musky to my nose (by the way, the name Muscari is Greek for Musk). I wouldn’t personally know if I’ve smelled any of the other species in the group, since they are so similar looking, but the fragrance of Grape Hyacinth is neither grape nor Hyacinth. Its delightfully sweet with a tinge of musk, very similar to their cousins the Bluebells, but with a richer, muskier perfume. Hmmm… maybe we should just add this one to the list of plants needing to be sampled by oneself to really get the picture? Certain species are reported to have different scents, ranging from honey-like to banana.

Related to Grape Hyacinth is Puschkinia, another Scilla (Hyacinthoid) with a fragrance that is sweet and spicy. They are a rare find in American gardens and I personally have yet to sample one. They look strikingly like Hyacinths, except are a light blue or striped white and blue, and have a small cup in the middle around the reproductive parts like Narcissus. Sadly, its not named after the Russian poet Pushkin, but the Russian botanist Pushkin.

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Leucojum vernum. IKAI. Wikimedia commons.

Similar to snowdrops are spring snowflake, Leucojum. They are lily relatives, and like snowdrops, bloom early in the spring almost unexpectedly. They come a week or two later, and have a more marked scent that is reminiscent of the large Daffodils one sees in early April. Its not quite sweet, but musky and earthy, almost like air-dried linen with a with a slight tang to it. This is one plant you have to really bury your nose in to smell it though. I saw them at Hillwood Gardens in DC blooming in February (covered in snow no less) and assume some are out there blooming here as well. They don’t tend to last long here since spring is fairly non-existant most years and is squished between winter and summer. Perhaps they might last a bit this year with the amazing slow start to spring we’re having.

It is reported that Persian Irises bloom this early where the climate supports it. Around here, Iris reticulata is the only early-blooming Iris that can withstand our cold, wet winters. Wilder details it in The Fragrant Path as ‘possessing a perfume much like that of violets.’ Sounds like many Irises to me, although the later-blooming bearded ones are a mix of violet and privet, or some other cloying fragrance to be sampled lightly. Perhaps the early bloom stifles some of the over-the-top sweetness.

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Iris reticulata. John Lonsdale. http://www.pacificbulbsociety.org.

Lastly, Winter Hellebores are another early bloomer that, although not a bulb, are as reliably blooming as the bulbs above. I’ve already seen a few of the hybrids poking their heads out, and they are rather nice in a garden as another spring initiate. They tend to be favored in woodlands and well-maintained historical gardens in this region. The hybrids have a scent similar to Snowflakes and Crocus, but lighter than either. The species Helleborus odorus is the olfactory winner of the clan, but is rarely planted in gardens, and eschewed for its colorful brothers H. x hybridus instead. H. orientalis is known as the Lenten Rose, not only for its bloom period, often being during the Lenten season, but its faint purple and mauve colors, fitting the ecclesiastical nature of the season of repentance as well. Why purple is the color of repentance is something beyond my personal knowledge.

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Various Hellebore hybrids. Simon Garbutt. Wikimedia commons.

Well this concludes the bulbs for now- I shall likely revisit them whence April arrives, and the season for flowers has finally dawned. Until then, I will do some local fragrant weeds and wildflowers. I hope wherever you are reading this from, its more springy than here!

 

 


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Those little cloying things

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Narcissus papyraceus. Ceasol. Wikimedia Commons.

I had a long post that accidentally got deleted, so I might be slightly fuming over the big long post that just killed itself and be paying absolutely no attention to grammar when writing this, so be warned. Anyways, the other day I walked into my local Grocery store and saw those forced bulbs that make me cringe every year- Paperwhites. Paperwhites are essentially tiny, early blooming Daffodils which make up in fragrance what they lack in size. Part of me rejoices in seeing the tiny reminders of spring approaching, and then part of me cringes when my nose perceives what my eyes already have. Paperwhites are categorically thrown into my group of cloying plants that I wish people would just stop growing. Paperwhites and their categorical cousins, Hyacinths, are on my ‘do not buy’ list for one single reason- indoles. Indoles are chemicals which, to my nose, smell like well-used cat litter- fetid! However, not everyone can perceive the indole smell. Its said that pregnant women, and even women on their periods, are particularly sensitive to musky and fetid aromas, and I don’t doubt it has something to do with hormones. Men though do have an ability to perceive scents powerfully as well, which is why the most famous ‘noses’ in perfume businesses are men. I guess I was blessed with the ability to pick up the indole scent, but I would rather not have it for times like this.

While I personally cannot stand the scent of paperwhites for the indoles, people love them. Either they can’t perceive them, or just plain don’t care about it. I get a splitting headache at the odor, particularly in a warm stuffy room; but some people are just in heaven over the scent. Hyacinths are the same way- overly cloying, yet sweet enough to fly off store shelves every year. While Hyacinths to my nose aren’t fetid, they are just too strong, and one whiff from across the room is good enough for me for the year. I rejoice at seeing growing things again, but I also cringe at the fact that these plants are winding up in the hands of people who have no understanding of how to care for forced bulbs. Not that they’re particularly hard to care for, I just think any wasted plant is a loss.

Overall, paperwhites aren’t going away anytime soon unfortunately, but I can at least relish that their larger flowering relatives are going to be opening up outside soon. Maybe I can just avoid grocery shopping for the meantime…Its Lent anyways right?