Mock-orange

"We are all made of dreams, and our life stretches from sleep before birth to sleep after death."

--Shakespeare, The Tempest

 
As mentioned earlier, my sister spent a long weekend with me a couple weeks ago, while en route from a three-month visit in Chiang Mai, Thailand, to her home in rural Idaho.  She rarely visits Seattle, and I was excited to have her company during a season when one might reasonably hope for both sunshine and warmth.  

Although I realized she had experienced plenty of both in Thailand. She was so acclimated to heat that she complained constantly of the "cold" in Seattle.  To be honest, it was unseasonably cloudy and chilly.  On only a couple of days did Seattle's high reach 60 degrees (15.5° C), and even my house -- ten degrees warmer -- felt cold to her.

As usual, her timing was bad.  Today's high will be 82, tomorrow's is projected at 88, and Monday's at 91 (32.8° C) -- before falling temporarily back to around 70 on Tuesday.  I found myself a few minutes ago lolling on my back deck, re-reading David Sedaris essays on my Kindle, while Pollux was stretched out at my feet, savoring the 79 degree warmth, and sharing with me the moderating shade of neighboring shrubbery.

It was like Hawaii, I told myself.  Why Hawaii?  Then it occurred to me!   Because of the fragrance.  At one end of my deck, rising above my border hedge, rise stalks laden with white flowers.  They bloom every year, but never as luxuriantly as this year, and never before with such a distinctive fragrance or one that I recall ever tracing to them.  I was sitting at the opposite end of the deck, but the delicious smell was almost overpowering even there. 

My handy plant-identification app identifies the flowers as Lewis' mock-orange.  Also known as California mock-orange, or, botanically, Philadelphus lewisii.  They are supposedly easy to grow and require little attention, making them tailor-made for my limited gardening skills.  Where they came from, I have no idea.  Until ten years ago, the spot where they now grow was devoted to out-of-control blackberry brambles -- at which time I replaced the brambles with a laurel hedge.  The mock-orange sneaked in from parts unknown, and now towers a good three feet (one meter) above the ten-foot hedge.

But who gives a hoot about its origins?  I sat there, stretched out in my chair, Kindle in hand, cat at foot, intermittently reading, meditating, enjoying -- and increasingly, I'm afraid, dozing.  Finally, I looked down and discovered that the unfaithful cat had apparently become bored and had wandered off elsewhere.  (Pollux is back in the house as I type this, noisily chasing house flies; Castor, on the other hand, is off on another of his 30-hour absences without leave.)

Anyway, half-reading and half-dreaming on my back deck on a warm, sunny day is always pleasant.  The newly-assertive appearance of my mock-orange merely kicks my enjoyment up another notch.  If only we'd had this weather two weeks ago, when my sister could have enjoyed it with me. And kept me awake with a little pleasant conversation.