I adore sweet peas. The first time I recall them is when my mother planted them along her back fence the year I was pregnant with the Young Philosopher. She would cut bunch after bunch of them and bring them indoors, and the scent was divine.
When I moved from eleven years living in a flat to a house with a tiny garden, I grew them myself several times along my side fence at the front of the house, and they were glorious. These days, I have pyracantha bushes, a clematis that has taken over, and a few other things growing along that fence that means my regular sweet pea spot is no more. The last few years I have tried growing them up a wigwam in pots, with no success. This year I have some in a pot, which are very tatty looking and about six inches tall, and some which I planted to grow up canes by the front door. They were planted late, and with the summer we have had (or rather, not had) I have not expected much at all, but today, there they were, half a dozen lovely little purple and white blooms. I have them on the kitchen windowsill, and keep wandering over to sniff them. I waved them under the Prof's nose this evening, to demonstrate how gorgeous the scent is. 'Hmm', he said. 'Smells like air freshener'.
Joining the August Break