Night scent

I think there is something almost unbearably romantic about plants that release their fragrance at night.

When I am outside at night and get a waft of some fragrant flower, I always think of a line from Irish writer Thomas Moore’s epic 19th century narrative poem Lalla Rookh: “plants that wake when others sleep”. The poem, if you do not already know it, is the story of a Mughal princess on the journey from Delhi to Kashmir to be married to an unknown king. On the way she falls in love with the poet who travels with her entourage who turns out (spoiler alert) to be the king of Bukhara to whom she is engaged (fun fact: it was a stonking best-seller when it was first released in 1817, and earned Moore an eyewatering and record-breaking advance of £3000).

While I wouldn’t say the floriferousness of the language or imperial Orientalism would appeal to many modern readers today, it’s definitely worth a read if you, like me, like night-scented plants. Moore’s fantastical fantasy world is positively abloom with the likes of jasmine whose “timid buds keep their odour to themselves all day, but when the sun-light dies away, let the delicious secret out to every breeze that roams about”; and tuberose, “the Mistress of the Night, so like a bride, scented and bright, she comes out when the sun’s away”.

Or, of course, if you like night-scented plants but don’t fancy wading through screeds of 200-year-old poetry, you could, with some judicious planning, bring those fragrant summer nights of Lalla Rookh to life in your own garden.

Night-scented jasmine or jessamine, often called the queen or lady of the night, which is the jasmine to which I assume Moore is referring, has an almost overwhelming fragrance but I don’t recommend it: mainly because it’s on the National Pest Plant Accord in New Zealand due to its extremely weedy nature, but also because, as an asthmatic myself, I find the powerful fragrance actually makes me a little wheezy. But tuberose, which he also refers to, is lovely for scent at night (plant bulbs in November for blooms and scent the following March).

So called moonflowers are a delightful option for fragrance on warm summer evenings, although that common name is given to various plants: including tropical white morning glory (Ipomoea alba), a cousin to the blue morning glory that’s a pest plant, but not weedy itself (Kings Seeds and Owairaka Seeds sell seed) and also angel’s trumpets, especially the old-fashioned white form (Brugmansia candida). Brugmansia are often lumped in with datura, to which they are admittedly related, and that has given them an undeservedly poor reputation. The late plantsman and subtropical expert Russell Fransham told me years ago he felt they deserved to be far more widely grown; with many excellent hybrids producing flowers in white, cream, pink, apricot, salmon, orange and red in flushes over several months (in fact Russell told me Brugmansia ‘Butterscotch’, the golden-yellow flowers of which smell like spiced honey, could bloom almost year round in warmer places).

Old-fashioned tobacco plant Nicotiana sylvestris is the tallest of the nicotiana varieties, so keep it at the back of the border somewhere close to where you are likely to sit at night to enjoy its jasmine-like fragrance. Or if you want something a bit more structural with night-time perfume, port wine magnolia (Magnolia figo) is lovely small tree or hedging plant which is highly fragrant in the evening, or native Pittosporum tobira is useful for hedges and screens and produces orange blossom-scented blooms which smell more strongly as darkness falls.

If you are renting or living in an apartment, but still want to enjoy perfumed summer nights, consider night-blooming cereus as a houseplant (not a cereus at all but Epiphyllum oxypetalum; also called queen of the night). Its white fragrant waterlily-like flowers last for but a single night but are certainly romantic enough to inspire any poets who happen to pass by.

Wishing you a fragrant and floral February!