The flowers fell aquarreling, they never could agree
Whose fragrance was the sweetest, so they went and asked the bee.
The bee agreed to act as judge - she does her job with pride,
She sniffs and sips the whole day long, but still she can't decide.
The four o'clocks, the stately phlox, alyssum oh so sweet;
The lovely luscious lavender, the mint, the margarite.
The mignonette, the violet, the handsome tuberose;
The beebalm with its spiciness - such scents assail her nose!
From peony to pink sweet pea, she buzzes through the beds,
And as she sniffs the blossoms smile, and nod their pretty heads.
I wrote that song many years ago, but all the flowers I included in it are still around. In fact plant breeders have done nothing but improve them. We gardeners are more concerned with color schemes, size and height than sweet smells when we plan our gardens, but fragrant blossoms should be part of any flower bed or border, so let's look at some of them.
Of course roses have some of the most heavenly scents, but the few fancy hybrid teas I've grown always committed suicide over the winter no matter how well I tried to protect them. The tuberose is a different species entirely, but it also has a beautiful aroma. It's a fleshy bulb that must be planted in May after Jack Frost has left town. It sends up a double spike of white blooms in late summer. I grew a tuberose just once, and was not impressed so I didn't bother to dig it up come fall. A few years later I read that tuberose bulbs aren't worth digging up to replant; it's better to buy new bulbs each spring.
Phlox is an old standby, one of the easiest and most rewarding perennials in the flower bed. The problem of powdery mildew on its leaves is rarely found on newer varieties. That mildew is not caused by wet weather by the way, just the opposite. Too much dryness is what brings on powdery mildew, so if you don't want to bother spraying a fungicide to prevent it, keep your phlox well-watered.
A clump of phlox will die at its center as it grows out around the edges, but mine have been in the border for years without dividing. Unfortunately the insects who pollinate the wild phlox that colors our roadsides with pale lavender blooms also visit our cultivated gardens. Each year several of these wild species appear in my border. I used to think my whites and pinks had reverted, but these interlopers are just from seedlings brought by insects. I'm not fond of lavender so whenever I spot these wild plants in the border I ruthlessly dig them up and get rid of them.
Nowadays the large selection of phlox varieties allows the gardener to add lovely colors to the garden - white, pink, rose, salmon, just no yellows. When the blossoms are cut for bouquets they fill the house with a peppery perfume, but do not last long, dropping their petals within a few days. White blossoms are the most fragrant.
I've never grown margarite, but it made an easy rhyme for my song. The name is applied to various daisy-like plants, and although they are perennials, they're treated as annuals in New England as they rarely survive our winters. Florists grow them as pot plants for winter and early spring sales.
I also have to admit I've never grown mignonette (Reseda odorata) either, but was unable to resist its alliteration. This plant is a hardy annual whose blooms are weedy-looking clusters of greenish white flowers, and as a consequence I've never been tempted to grow it.
I left the gas plant out of my song because its name is so unpoetic. You may be unfamiliar with this fancy flower with propane power (just can't resist that doggerel) as I once was. It is included on most lists of fragrant plants because its foliage smells strongly of lemon peel when bruised. The gas plant sends up a leathery clump of greenery topped by 12-inch spikes of pinky purple blossoms in late June. It gets its unappealing name from the fact that its cut roots, and its midsummer blossoms, give off highly flammable oil that a match can ignite with blue flame.
It's a little embarrassing, but once more I have to admit the gas plant is another flower I've never grown. I have a friend who does grow them, and claims that you can really see that blue flame if you put a match to the bloom.
Oh, there are so many fragrant flowers I should have talked about a few more that I actually grow in my garden - that night-blooming biennial Nicotiana, the sweet-smelling lily of the valley, the Asian lilies, the almost overpowering aroma of hyacinths, And we haven't even looked at the fragrant vines or shrubs.
Well, make your own fragrant flower choices, but be sure and plant something full of sweet perfume in your flower beds this summer.
