Yesterday, at the end of a dull evening, I put out the recyling bin. It wasn't quite full. I wheeled it across the small patch of grass, through the gate and onto the pavement.
As I crossed the grass a wonderful scent hit me. It was still there as I reached the pavement and richer still as I returned across the grass.
In the dark, I couldn't think what it was. Then I saw the honeysuckle - almost white in the moonlight.
That honeysuckle is in my garden but its scent has nothing to do with me.
I'm the sort of gardener who lets things alone - though occasionally I hack back or plant