Gardenia season

With violence in Baghdad creeping back up, I find myself spending more time in the office than I'd like. The air-conditioning, artificial light, drone of TV news and steady hum of the generator gets to be too much after awhile. So I'm grateful for any respite.

Reporter Laith has been trying to inject a bit of color by bringing in gardenias from his garden at home. He puts a few pale, fragrant flowers in a little bit of water in a coffee cup and proudly sets it atop his desk, amid a tangle of computer cables, notepads and cellphones. Every so often he comes around and thrusts the petals into your face, saying, "Smell!"

I'm not generally much for flowers, but I have to say that the fragrance is lovely. (Anything to get the persistent hint of sand out of the air is welcome.)

Not surprisingly, few people keep gardens in Baghdad these days. Laith planted his gardenia bushes about three years ago, after the war had begun. He nurtured the soil with iron shavings from the local blacksmith and sheep's blood from the local butcher. In the springtime sun, the plant is doing well, but the flowers he brought in a few days ago were among his last. Gardenia season in Baghdad is nearly over.