There is a time. Right now it is time to inhale the almost overwhelmingly pungent jasmine. It is everywhere. If it weren't 83 degrees one might think that snow had fallen, blanketing the river arch and the side bushes. The azaleas put on quite a show, but the almost luridly pink blossoms did not carry the aromatic impact of the jasmine.Nothing says deep South to me like the jasmine. Nothing.
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