It’s that time of year again when every morning and evening I’m blessed to wake up to the intoxicating scent of jasmine flowers in my backyard. I always make it a point to pick a few flowers and place them in various places in my small studio here in Berkeley, California. I guess it’s not just the scent of jasmine that I love so dearly, but also the memories associated with it. My grandparents’ house in Sari (a small town in northern Iran close to the Caspian Sea) had a delightful garden with various fruit trees and flowers. And at night when the crickets began their song, the jasmine flowers would bloom and permeate the air, announcing their arrival. Coupled with the azan (call to prayer) that would fill my grandparent’s courtyard from the nearby mosque, there was and has never been a more peaceful moment. I wish I could share those scenes that have become engraved in my mind with all of you. But I’ll follow Fatima’s lead and show you an image of that which I love so much.