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| White Sunlight - Jasmine. Photography, Sarah Myers |
Several nights ago I
walked across the patio in the deep desert evening; I was hurrying
in, my mind not touched by my surroundings, when suddenly something
so direct and so beautiful drifted across my consciousness that I
stopped and looked about me.
The first jasmine
blooms had opened. Only a few – five or six, perhaps – miniature
stars in the rising in the twilight. It was their breath that had
made me pause - that cleanly, rich, precious fragrance unlike any
other.
The vine is a pet
plant on the patio; it is sitting in a very large, dark red pot that
is already too small for it. It has grown fast and lavishly, and I
have trained it up on the pillar behind with multiple strands of
twine. The plant looks like a great green shadow embracing the
column. And now it is turning to a mountain of perfumed stars, a
chorus of darting trumpets full of sweetness.
I water it every
other morning – sometimes oftener, checking the soil, for its
present growth and burden of bloom make it extremely thirsty. I
noticed that, from time to time, a little bird, scolding at a high
pitch, took wing out of its center. I was amused, because the vine
is still not a huge plant, and the bird was minuscule.
Only after
several times of accidentally startling the bird when I came up to
water, did I think to search the vine for evidence of nest-building.
There was not only evidence the tiny bird had been building – a
completed nest nestled at the core of the plant and was already
holding three delicate, greenish-white eggs.
I hope the
little finch brood is able to hatch and to survive. The desert is
cruel, full of accidents, predators, and with small margins for the
fragile and young. Our human presence here has only done a little to
mitigate the range of disasters to the small, friendly creatures that
we welcome and admire. Sometimes it is conscious, as when we rescue
a nestling or provide water through the summer; sometimes it is
unconscious, as when we plant a vine that proves a shady and fragrant
spot to raise a brood.
Now I try to
spare the tiny finch-hen too much disturbance, and do not go near the
vine as often as I used to. I do not need to – the overwhelming
fragrance drifts toward me as I go to and fro, tending my other
plants. But at least once a day the plant needs to be checked for
water, so it does not wither and prove no shelter at all to the
little bird inside - as well as so that it continues to fill the air
with its heavenly aura of late spring. And the other day, I took
these pictures in the midday glow – the ethereal trumpets in
rushing garlands of pink-tinged pearl white.
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| A Morning-star - Jasmine. Sarah Myers, photography |
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| The Tiny Nest in the Jasmine Vine. Sarah Myers |
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| The Fragrance - Jasmine. Sarah Myers Photography |
