There are plants and trees that bloom in the spring and summer in the South, filling the air with their sweetness. They beckon us to go outside and admire God’s creation, as their blossoms unfurl with color, fragrance, and glory.

I especially love those plants that are native to the area.

There is mountain laurel, holding the hillsides together with an elegant network of branches and clusters of pink and white flowers. 

There are the grand magnolias, symbol of the South. The cultivated varieties, with their dark green, glossy foliage and smooth bark, make perfect climbing trees. The obstacles of American Ninja Warrior have nothing on the large magnolia that is still growing at my grandparents’ homeplace, although it has grown so tall now that the lowest branch is out of my reach.

I’m too old to be climbing trees anyway, but I can still dream about it.

There is another magnolia of the South, the wild growing cowcumber trees that love the damp hollers. Their large, almost tropical leaves are fit for both folding into drinking cups and using for backwoods toilet paper. 

Both varieties of magnolias are known for their large, creamy-colored blossoms and their fragrant lemon-like scent, and while I’ve not known a cowcumber bloom to grace the bride’s table at a wedding reception, the others sure do make the Pinterest displays this time of year.

In fact, I just checked, and I could scroll for hours learning about magnolias and their many varieties. 

I could pick out a magnolia tattoo, if I wanted. I found a few ideas.

But I suppose my favorite native plant of all is the humble sweetshrub bush.

To be technical, it is a Calycanthus, with its most common species the C. floridus. In some places it is known as Carolina allspice, but it ranges throughout the eastern United States, growing into a shrub about as long as it is tall, usually around eight feet.

And why is it my favorite? For one, it is the underdog of native bushes. You’re probably not going to see it in the backdrop of a full-color spread on the pages of your favorite local magazine, where non-native gardenias and camellias are frittered over, and those towering magnolias are put on full display. 

You know how many pins I found about the sweetshrub? Three. You can also forget finding a tattoo design.

But I guess the real reason I like the sweetshrub is that my parents always have. They have a large, well-established shrub that has bloomed for years on the south side of their house. When I was a kid I never understood the true allure of those dark maroon-colored blossoms, despite their sweet fragrance. There were always brighter flowers on the goldenbell bush, the first sign of the coming spring. In early summer, the basswood tree in full bloom, humming with the noise of the bees as they pollinated its drooping, pale yellow blossoms, was certainly more of a show.

But there was always an old-time appeal surrounding the sweetshrub, which my parents would praise whenever the first blossoms of the year arrived. They clipped branches and put them in vases around the house. We needed no artificial air fresheners, for the essence of the sweetshrub saturated our home with its heady perfume.

I’ve got an even deeper appreciation for the sweetshrub now, thanks to a story from my mother that escaped me over the years, if she ever told it at all.  

It is a memory she has of the old elementary school, where she and my dad attended, along with so many others in my community, people whom I love and admire and respect. I am fascinated with stories of the old school, and she tells it best:

“ . . . the big old frame elementary building that sat on the hill where the Meek High School building is now . . . oiled floors, big windows in every classroom, pot bellied stoves in every room. No indoor bathrooms! But we had a big stage! Around the outside of the building was sweetshrub which had a maroon-colored flower bud, and there was a white flowering bush that was called spirea . . . thus the colors of the school: maroon and white. Such a regal color . . .

When in bloom in April and May we elementary kids would pick a sweetshrub bud and put it on our desk to sniff all during the day to help us endure doing our classwork and keep our minds off the bees and wasps that would fly in and out of the classrooms’ open windows in the un-air conditioned building.”

Sounds like they were quite progressive at the old elementary school, using some natural aromatherapy ahead of its time to keep those kiddos attentive right up until the last days of school. We could take a lesson from their methods.

And if you don’t have a family group chat going, start one. The old timers in your group might come out with who knows what memories that might help you make more sense of things.

Finally, someone needs to develop some sweetshrub tattoo patterns. My folks don’t have any ink, but if they ever saw a sweetshrub design, they might bust down the door of the tattoo shop this weekend. 

And I just might be with them.