It may not be July, but I suppose Seals & Crofts must have been somewhere north of South Carolina when they penned their hit.
It is April and the jasmine is taking control of historic downtown Charleston. It’s everywhere – around light posts, fences, tree trunks, and all other supportive structures of that ilk. These tiny, white pinwheels are potent. You can not visit this city in the late spring without taking notice.
I, for one, am deeply in love with the fragrant blossoms. I remember falling for them first four springs ago. With my new digi camera in hand, I took the long way home after a rehearsal for my choir’s concert at First Scot’s Presbyterian. I ambled down Tradd and Legare Streets surrounded by the charming single homes and felt a full on swoon taking over my body as the scent of jasmine moved with the breeze.
Ever since that first spring here, I anxiously await the jasmine’s bloom. It serves as a lovely indicator that summer is just around the corner. Soon the Atlantic’s waters will warm, everyone will sweat in the shade, and I won’t be able to step outside without gasping deeply for oxygen from the 90-something degree air so thick with humidity that I swear I have to swim through it. But for now, the city is on her very best behavior as she puts on her best floral accessories and warms me with a light and airy sun.
With timid plans making it likely that this will be my last spring with the harbor for a good while, I’m trying to appreciate it all even more than years past. I’m trying to look at the blossoms more carefully, breathe in the salt air that comes off the water more deeply, and bask in the jasmine’s headiness with every fiber in me.
