Grandmother's Guide to the Night-Blooming Jasmine

Lore

First, you must choose a pot of unglazed clay. Plastic will stifle the roots, and the ancestors cannot breathe through it. Fill it with soil from the home place, mixed with a handful of coarse salt and dried rose petals. The jasmine likes a shaded corner, preferably one where the moon hits for only a single hour each night. Too much light will bleach the scent, and the spirits will lose the trail. Now, the feeding. This is where most girls get lazy. You cannot simply water the plant. Once a week, lean close to the damp soil and whisper a secret that has never left the house. It must be a true secret, something that tastes of shame or longing. The plant drinks the weight of the word; the heavier the secret, the whiter the bloom. If the leaves begin to yellow, you are withholding too much. Be honest with your dirt. When the blossoms open, they will be pale and heavy. You will hear the humming first, a sound like a distant hive in the walls. This is when you must prune. Use silver shears, cleaned with vinegar. If you see a petal curling inward, clip it cleanly. This removes the lies, the excuses, and the omissions. If you leave the curls, your grandfather will tell you what he thinks you want to hear rather than what actually happened in the winter of 1922. Be patient with the pruning. Do not rush the shears, or you may cut the connection entirely. When the scent becomes thick enough to taste, set out a tea service for two. The spirits often arrive thirsty, and it is only polite to have the kettle warm.