The New York Times Signs In by Dominique Browning

(Hint: Here’s a great holiday gift suggestion for gardeners and normal folks on your list.)

No matter how beautiful a blossom might be, if it has no fragrance, Ken Druse, author of THE SCENTUAL GARDEN: Exploring the World of Botanical Fragrance finds it “somewhat lacking.” On a whim, I planted a few mounds of santolina in the gravel near some chairs; every pinch of the plant is delightful — all thanks to VOCs, the volatile organic compounds in the oil glands of a flower, the chemicals that truly turn our heads. Plants also use those VOCs to communicate with one another, letting them know of marauding caterpillars, for instance, so their neighbors can switch on their “defensive hormones.”

Druse is a gardener (and prolific author) who carries a sachet of lavender in his car, to crumple when he needs a hit of fragrance; he lays flowers across his dashboard for the pleasure of their company during a ride. The science of smell is somewhat confounding: An organic compound called indole, for instance, which is found in jasmine and orange blossoms, is also found in coal tar and decomposing shrimp. The narcissus N. Actaea illustrates the indole paradox: From a distance it smells like honey, but up close you can pick up traces of black pepper and cow dung. Sadly, many roses have lost their fragrance, having been bred for color or long stems — or the strength to withstand “harvesting, packing, handling, shipping, repackaging and more shipping.” A few breeders, though, are specializing in fragrance again.

Druse discusses scent-capturing techniques like infusing, distilling, decocting and maceration, and explains perfumers’ terms as well. A “fragrant accord” sounds like something that should happen in our nation’s capital, but it’s a three-note sequence involving the different weights of scent in a perfume. The top note gives the first impression; the middle or heart notes come next; and the base notes, those woody vetivers, or sexy animalic musks, are the last to fade. An encyclopedia of fragrant plants, lavishly illustrated with photographs by Ellen Hoverkamp, ensures that you put your olfactory organs to work next time you’re browsing through a nursery. The Clethra that proliferates in my woodlands, scenting the air with a spicy honey, drew thousands of tiny bees. We all swooned through the late summer days.