Biking home yesterday, I stopped on the side of the road. A chaste tree was in full bloom, purple spires punctuating the greenery. I rubbed a leaf to transfer the spicy fragrance to my fingertips.
A block farther on, I heard the call of a treefrog from a nearby ditch. I spent several minutes, peering into the agae-laced water but could not find the small vocalist.
Before getting back on the bike, I put my fingers to my nose. Alas! The perfume was already gone.