@Sossman, I could almost hear Tennyson's "flute, violin [and] bassoon" playing among the "casement jessamine" in his poem, Come into the Garden Maud, while I read your well written posts here. Your depiction of a lake (moonlit?) around which evening scents of moonflower, jasmine and almond wafted carried me away from this February night for a while.
Thank you for this thread,
Tennyson's poem -
https://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/...
We need to hear more from southern gardeners about their fragrant southern gardens - anyone like to do it? When I was a kid in the 50s, a magnolia planted by my granddad around the turn of the 20th century had literally become as big as several houses in a grassed roundel about which horse driven carriages would have traveled to the front door. We were just visiting, so were never there to get a whiff of that tree's blossoms. A hurricane brought the tree down not long after our visit - not to mention blowing away chicken houses.
