Having praised the virtues of the mockorange blossom over the years, this feels like a largely redundant post, but if the memory and scent is as sweet as those produced by this unassuming plant, it’s a path I’ll happily retread. The shrub itself has a rather non-descript form. Its simple round leaves start out bright green then mature to a deeper shade that all but disappears into the landscape. The stems slowly advance to a woody stage as the shrub eventually reaches higher and higher into the sky, topping out at ten to fifteen feet if you let it.
They tend to get weedy and filled with dead wood after a while, so I cut them back hard every few years, and even then their form is a little too erratic and untidy for my taste. If it weren’t for the flowers I wouldn’t bother at all. Some flowers, though, are worth it. These personify early summer, with a perfume that brings me back to far more carefree days.
