Every single flower is precious just now, especially if it is wonderfully fragrant. So winter flowering shrubs should be planted close to where you regularly walk. And there’s the rub: such shrubs must pull their weight throughout the year, not just in deepest winter.

Kerria japonica is just a flash in the pan, looking quite attractive, though unscented, over the next few weeks and pretty deadly for the rest of the time. And this may be heresy to some, but Forsythias are scarcely worth the space even when they are in flower.

I tolerate Viburnum farreri because its tiny pink flowers are beacons of light in all but the coldest weather. And even though they’re frizzled as I write, new ones will appear. But I’ve got space for this. With even a medium-sized garden, you wouldn’t want this shrub near the front door.

So the canny gardener should choose a small tree or shrub whose glorious early flowers are followed up by ever-changing foliage. This is where Hamamelis, witch hazel, scores. As you probably know, witch has nothing to do with old hags, but comes from the Anglo-Saxon “wice”, meaning pliable or bending as its young stems do.

Some witch hazel cultivars, such as H Intermedia “Ostergold”, are overlooked far too often. For as much as six weeks, distinctive spidery yellow flowers exude a fine, almost spicy fragrance. And the dense clusters of highly scented coppery

reddish-yellow flowers of Hamamelis x intermedia “Jelena” also tick the boxes.

But witch hazel’s show keeps running. The first maroon flush of Ostergold’s leaves gradually turns green, ending up a striking yellow in autumn.

Leaf texture and colour is what makes or breaks these winter flowering shrubs. No one could resist Daphne bholua “Jacqueline Postil” in flower, but its deep, leathery leaves also make the perfect foil to clusters of pinkish-white little scented flowers and they continue once the blooms are over. Bholuas are often called paper daphnes because they were originally used in the paper-making industry in Nepal. And the inner bark produced a fibre that was used for making rope.

Even when leaves don’t have this kind of practical use, they must always complement, and with evergreens, enhance, the flowers and fruits to make the perfect plant. This is where Mahonia japonica scores, as its dark green, sharply toothed – “soft holly” – leaves set off sprays of tiny, pale yellow flowers.

Mahonia x media “Charity”, Oregon grape, is an excellent taller upright Mahonia. Again, the dark green leaves, comprising five to 20 leaflets, give all-year round interest and the long stalks of cupped yellow blooms are a winter feast for the eye.

For something a bit different, Prunus x subhirtella Autumnalis is your tree. I confess I don’t have it here and, as a general rule, am no fan of flowering cherries. But this is different. It’s in another league to the crudely vulgar specimens, such as Kanzan that flaunt themselves in so many parks in spring.

This winter flowering gem is the only cherry that flowers off and on from November right through till March. Connoisseurs will undoubtedly enjoy its delightful display of delicate, semi-double blooms, as they develop from pink buds to a fulsome white. And the ensuing foliage is an added bonus. An early bronze merges to green, before turning a goodly yellow and orange in autumn.

This is a well-behaved tree, coping with almost any aspect and soil type and, critically for a small garden, casts very little shade. You could even use it as a climbing frame for a clematis to add extra zest to a corner.