Before I moved to New Orleans, I was a Jazzfest regular. One of the many sensory pleasures I associate with those exciting explorations is the scent of star jasmine, from massive vines overpowering modest chain-link fences in the neighborhood near the Fair Grounds.
Clearly, I needed jasmine of my own, but before Hurricane Katrina, I was unsure where to put it. After Katrina, though, the choice was clear, and my plants are thriving.
It turns out that Confederate jasmine, or Trachelospermum jasminoides, is not a true jasmine. Whatever.
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