Sweet scents

It will be a major innovation when they finally figure out how to do it, but wouldn't it be nice if someone invented a 'scratch and sniff' widget which you could add to gardening blogs? I have the perfect use for such a nifty little device – my Gardenia radicans is blooming, and as I opened our back door this morning the sweet scent of its blooms was lingering at the door to bid me 'good morning'.

The first, crisp white blooms are out and you can see from all the buds here that over the next couple of days the glossy green foliage will almost disappear under the snowy eruptions.

Gardenias have such a sweet scent that they're probably not everyone's favourite scent. I don't like them when brought indoors. They quickly cloy up a hallway when left in a vase. But diluted with fresh morning air, they're just delightful.

I must admit to being a bit of a 'green and white' fan, which is why I planted gardenias. They're growing in three identical sandstone planter boxes at the edge of our tile-floored pergola area, and are largely trouble-free plants, provided you pander to their greed for food. They'll let you know they need feeding when their leaves turn yellow, which looks alarming, but the dreadful pallor soon passes after a feed.

The gardenias are close to my little water garden, and the whole thing looked very picturesque this morning.

I presume fish can't smell. If they did my goldfish probably would be overwhelmed by being so close to all those sweet-scented blooms. At least the goldfish have something in common with the gardenias – both are shockingly greedy!

And while I'm dreaming of cool widgets to add to gardening blogs, it would be nice to have 'click and listen' as well. While I was outside taking these snaps this morning, the spring-song of birds competed with the gardenia scents in filling the air. The most glorious songsters of all, the magpies, were carolling away from the top of my neighbour's chimney. A red wattlebird sat on the clothesline calling (well, it's more like clucking) for its mate. The red-chested Bulbul has just raised some chicks and cheeped incessantly with indignation at the presence of the big wattlebird. The Blue Wrens, also recent parents, just hoppity-hopped about the place cheeping chirpily as they snapped up their insect breakfasts. And the cheeky New Holland Honeyeaters, with their snazzy black, yellow and white colour scheme that would look good on a sports car, chirruped loudly to his mate (presumably about the abundant grevillea nectar on offer).

Ahhh, spring!