There are few things that make me stop everything I am doing just to swoon. Gardenia bushes in bloom are one of those things and ours have just started to. Planted when they were affordable (read: very, very small) our six bushes have grown steadily with each season, reacting to trimming by industriously pushing up higher and growing heavy with buds just before Mother’s Day each year (well played Mother Nature). Last season I was able to gather six to eight vases full of them while still leaving plenty on the plant.
I love how they linger, at once both sharp and verdant, yet mellow and creamy in a way that is unforgettable while never edging out as to assault your senses. Two nights ago the first bloom appeared, as if sending out a spy to be certain it was safe to erupt. Four more quickly followed along before the dawn of this morning. There is something almost lyrical about their arrival and no matter what I have my hands full of, or how heavy the load is, I always make the time to stop and breathe them in.