Innocently looking up "daphne" on the Web, I found it can have not only rhinological but emotional consequences. In "The Temptations of Heartbreaker Daphnes," Valerie Easton says:
To have loved and lost is to have grown a daphne. Gardeners fall for the intensely sweet scent of daphne's pretty little flowers...Many bloom early enough to waft heavenly tropical perfume around a cold garden as early as mid-February. Others flower for most of the year, or obligingly re-bloom. Daphnes grow slowly and rarely need pruning. Some are evergreen with showy variegated foliage.
Yet despite all these virtues, daphnes are heartbreakers. No other plant up and dies so unexpectedly and often. How many of us have gaps in our gardens where ghosts of daphnes linger in our memories?
Easton then goes on to enumerate the varieties of daphne that have gained - then spurned - her affections before stating, "I'm not sure if gardeners who keep pursuing daphnes are masochists or optimists."
I had no idea that daphne could be so disappointing and even tragic. I'd better go write a thank-you note to my friend. I want her to know I appreciate the risks she took in cultivating daphne.
(For more information, go to http://seattletimes.com/html/pacificnw/2014961905_pacificplife15.html.)
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