AN odd thing might happen as you walk down a city street on a mild winter’s day. Everything seems dull and grey, the colourful blooms of spring and summer a distant memory, and then... a waft of something floral and citrusy, with a hint of spice, hits your nose. Surely not a flower, at this time of year?
We probably all encounter many more winter-scented plants than we realise, only partly registering their unlikely perfume. Several of them are so easy to grow that they are often incorporated into council planting schemes or placed in banks outside smart offices, only for us to give a cursory sniff and shake of our heads as we pass by.
What we are smelling is an evolutionary strategy in action. All flowers offer a small pot of sweet, sustaining nectar to reward pollinating insects for visiting them. They want insects to visit, so that they pick up a little pollen and carry it on to another flower or so they deposit a little pollen onto them in turn. Thus begins the process of fertilisation that will end in the creation of seeds, ensuring the plant’s reproduction and its line’s survival (‘Fifty shades of green’, September 13). This is what the colour and scent of flowers are really about. They don’t actually exist to please us and make our gardens pretty; that is merely a wonderful side effect.
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