When we moved here, I thought California was without seasons. But February came and the streets were drenched with a heavy scent. It smelled like someone had spent the evenings careening around the city tossing glass bottles of cheap perfume out the car window. That was night blooming jasmine.

And then came April and the trees turned purple. Entire streets in Beverly Hills lined with them, but everywhere you see these stately trees with their ferny leaves and their vivid lavender petals. It was a revelation. Everyone knows about the cherry blossoms in Washington DC. Who ever heard of the jacaranda in Los Angeles?