Winter Daphne

So yes, perhaps on first glance you see the star magnolia in this pic and you are second guessing my post title.  But then, you look more closely and see a spotty shrub growing out of the fence, and you feel the need to inspect more closely.  That's pretty much what my experience was when I parked across from this Georgetown garden a few days ago.

 

I knew, from across the street, that it wasn't an early Ericaceous plant like azalea or andromeda and it wasn't one of the many sulfur-yellow early spring plants, like Forsythia, Cornus mas or Jasminum nudiflorum (more on that one next week).  I suspected it could be winter daphne, or Daphne odora, but had my doubts.  The plant is notoriously difficult to grow and it seemed unlikely to thrive here, jammed in an urban, crowded garden. 

 

But at closer inspection, it sure enough was winter daphne.  The glossy, broad leaves with faintly variegated margins, the round infloresences and of course the dizzying, heady fragrance are all clear giveaways.  If I didn't want the owners of that lovely home to sue me, I'd tell you where I found this plant and insist you smell it for yourself.  It's utterly intoxicating.

But as I said, it's a tough plant to keep happy.  Dirr says, "What a wonderful plant! Temperamental, trying, but worth all the attention."  Sounds like some relationships!

Speaking of which, this presents a perfect opportunity to address the plant's nomenclature.  Daphne is named for the mythological Greek nymph who, in order to avoid Apollo's fervent love and desire for her, prayed for help and was transformed into a laurel (Laurus nobilis).  In ancient Greece, Laurus nobilis was referred to as Daphne.  How and when the new genus Daphne acquired its name and Laurus started being called laurel, is a mystery I cannot shed light on today.