Garden of Fragrances

It began for me in winter 2024, when scented flowers are most elusive. I was caught off guard by the perfume of a neighbour’s Sarcococca Confusa—not a particularly showy shrub, but one with an amazingly bold aroma from its tiny white flowers. In winter, whilst the garden is in a dormant state, and the grey winter gloom covers everything, the fragrance of a Sarcococca is anything but grey. That was the moment I realised how important fragrance was to me in a garden, so that is what I planted for.

Fragrant flowering shrubs have since become the main population of my garden. A garden, once just a grass rectangle now has flowerbeds, the grass areas are getting smaller, making way for more and more plants. The earliest plants I planted were winter flowering, which is what they (garden centre’s) seem to sell during the winter months. Discovering a Mahonia growing in a nearby woodland was a “meant to be” moment. They are wonderful plants. I quickly became obsessed, and I hadn’t noticed any in the garden centre’s I’d been using. Their yellow flowers truly are the sunlight of the shadows. Other plants followed, each with their own mood. I didn’t intentionally place them near doors or windows as suggested in articles I read online. Instead, fragrance here is found all over. My hope is for the garden to draw you in, to reward your wandering with surprises, no matter the time of year.

Each plant feels like a character. The Sarcococca plays an encouraging part, uplifting you through the darker days with a subtle reminder that warmth will return. Once I realised fragrant flowers could be enjoyed across the year, I started seeking shrubs for every season—no longer bound by the garden centre’s seasonal offerings but drawn to out-of-season plants instead. I was now thinking to the year ahead. It turns out winter is a good time to plant many dormant shrubs and trees. It took some searching, but I discovered many nurseries offering shrubs with a wide range of flowering times throughout winter. Some of these plants have yet to bloom, even 8–9 months on—so patience is required. The anticipation is part of the joy.

To me, planting fragrant plants is like a form of communication. The blooms call to the bees and butterflies, saying: This is for you. Come visit. And they do. Their arrival feels like they understand—an exchange between gardener and nature. Some flowering shrubs produce berries that draw in birds too. There’s no greater reward than watching life gather in your garden. The smell of a flower probably doesn’t make much difference to the visiting wildlife, but it feels like it does to me, and it makes for such a lovely place to be and spend time.

The process of turning my lawn garden into a shrub sanctuary is ongoing. Many of the plants I purchased were small and reasonably priced, so having a wilderness garden is still a distant target—although maybe not too distant. I’ve been surprised by how vigorously certain plants have grown just this year. I intend to document those plants and the stages of their development as best I can in future posts.