Take a deep breath

IF' apple pie without the cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze then a garden replete with form and colour, but devoid of fragrance, is only half the garden it should be.

- Alan Titchmarsh

With certain plants, the presence of perfume is a given: who would acquire a scentless rose in preference to one with a heady fragrance, however beautiful the flower? At this time of year, 'attar of roses' is a far-off dream-well, three months at any rate. But there are other plants willing to steal a march on the roses, even if the chilly air of early spring can make it harder to detect their fragrance.

Witch-hazel flowers are beginning to shrivel, but when those spiders unfurl in January and February, the gardener who had invested in them for their muchvaunted perfume might have been disappointed that the aroma did not dance on the air in front of their expectant nose. The secret is to warm the flowers up a little and the way to do that is to exhale slowly on them through the mouth and then breathe in immediately through the nose. The citrus tang is released as if by magic, due to the instant rise in temperature. I should sound a word of warning: the purity of the witch hazel's perfume is compromised if you had a garlic-laden meal the night before.

Certain snowdrops, such as 'S. Arnott', 'Atkinsii' and James Backhouse', have the scent of honey. The trouble is that to discover this involves you crawling on all fours in a damp winter garden to check its presence. When the flowers are cut and brought indoors, the sensation is much more pleasant and the perfume—if not the flowers' durability—is enhanced by the presence of central heating.