A SPRING AWAKENING IN THREE PARTS
A STAR IS BORN
The sins are washed away the moment the smell enters the brain, before it’s even caught up with the senses proper. It’s not that the jasmine has actually saved you, the religion it holds is deeper than that, simpler than that. Your sins are still yours to carry one way or another and no plant is going to change that. But before it evokes even a memory of itself or the memory the smell takes you to, jasmine erases all thought and your consciousness becomes only the incomparable, incomprehensibly airy and unbearably heavy perfume of it and itself. The feelings fall right behind, and the shoulders drop, and the possibility of spring follows, and then your brain returns and you remember how this felt the year before and you long to feel this way forever and you promise yourself that this spring you will take steps to ensure that you do in fact feel this way forever.
And you probably won’t take those steps, or at least nearly all of them. But you will almost certainly step as much as possible through plumes of jasmine for the rest of the season so that you can relive that unique sense of carefree revitalization, and it will hit just as hard every time, even if it’s part of your twice-daily dog walk or whatever.
Maybe this second-person perspective has gotten way out of hand, and it only does this to me, and not so much you. But if I’m way off the mark and this is not a relatable experience, maybe this will encourage you to at least attempt to create a modicum of this remarkable feeling jasmine so longingly wants to bestow upon you.
A very cute colloquial truth regarding our jasmine: It is now commonly known as “star jasmine.” When I moved here 16 years ago, it was as good as universally called “confederate jasmine.” While I’m sure it is still called this by some, the internet shows that the cultural shift has fiercely turned away from this and towards the decidedly less offending and more uplifting “star.” Shoulders drop, the infinite possibility of spring endures.
BUCK BACK
Jasmine can literally do no wrong—save for maybe give your dog a slight stomach ache. It’s not even like, toxic toxic, but its sap can be a mild skin irritant and isn’t necessarily great in the belly. But there is an evil that comes with spring as ubiquitous as the star jasmine, and equally unavoidable if you so much as step foot outside in our ever-regenerating city: the buck moth caterpillar. Death from above, she thrives in oak trees (her preferred diet) which we are filthy in, but can be found falling from many other trees as well. The buck moth does not want to be on the ground, or crawling up your leg. It does not want to be lost in your shirt, or somehow on your face for the third time this season. It wants only to be eating oak leaves and yet, it is so stupid, sensibilities overpowered by the evil darkness of its own poison perhaps, that it will over and again find itself in exactly the right-wrong place, guaranteeing immeasurable pain for you and certain death for itself.
Given that buck moths are mostly (at least attempting) to live their lives high in the trees, fighting them actively is not a real option. Serious landscapers and pest control types have high pressure sprayers that they can use to soak trees in pesticide. But you, individual who wishes they did not have to face these demons, probably do not have the tools or want to spend the money it takes to have someone who has these tools appear. If you want to avoid buck moths, you simply have to stay inside forever. But that means avoiding the jasmine too. And, you know, all the other infinite beauties spring has to offer.
There is a third path though, one that can put the evil and pain the buck moths so want to impose on the world in a more meaningful and overarchingly positive light. Allow the creatures to transpose your wariness into awareness, take in your surroundings fully when you walk through the bright singing world of spring, immerse yourself fully in the blue sky and the bright sun reflecting off pastel paint jobs, watch for birds at play and poisonous caterpillars at rest, and just breathe in the whole experience of being alive. Thank the buck moths for bringing you to this space where you can see the place where you are.
GET IT WET
Water is life. And with all of this renewed vigor for life comes an awareness that in order to keep the things you want around alive, they need water. And though spring brings showers, it also brings heat, and many of the plants we want to survive to make our lives beautiful, easy, and carefree require extra attention on our ends in order to survive, most specifically, and definitely most frequently, in the form of watering. Hand watering on the regular is a fantastic way to stay in touch with your plants and to remain observant of the intricacies of the broader minutiae that nature offers us every moment of every day, but it also takes a lot of time, and when neglected, can cause our plants a lot of pain, which trickles down into a lot of pain for ourselves and ruins all that spring high power.
Might I suggest using some of that fresh jasmine-infused energy you’ve recently gathered from the streets to explore irrigating your plants, especially if you’re growing herbs and veggies through the spring and summer? It may feel like a daunting new horizon but it’s really a fun and easy game, pretty darn affordable, and will make your plants and your life so much easier in the long run, especially as spring wanes and summer takes a wet hot hold on our reality.
Irrigation may bring to mind intimidating notions of back flow, water pressure, timing, and complex micromanagerial webs of water lines, but if you are new to the notion, you need to consider none of this. All you need is a water timer and a 30-foot soaker hose. If one soaker hose doesn’t comfortably wrap around your garden bed to touch most of your plants, buy a second. Set your timer to go off for 30 to 90 minutes, every two to five days. Adjust as needed. Do that whole attention thing we were talking about before, experiment a little, and as you get comfortable with the ease with which irrigation has made your life easier, perhaps explore more complex systems of waterworks. It is that simple, I promise.
If you’ve got questions for the Dirt Nerd, feel free to email ian@hotplantsnursery.com.
illustrations by Rachel Speck
