Honeysuckle

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It was probably living and serving in the mountains of Appalachia, right after college, when I first experienced the deep sweet scent of honeysuckle.  I’m sure I smelled it before in the northern Virginia world I came from, but there was something about the intensity of the scent in Kentucky that enveloped me and permeated my senses and memory. It may sound a little strange to some of you, but I look forward to the return of honeysuckle each spring. I know when I see leaves sprouting on honeysuckle vines – sending up new tendrils of life – it won’t be long until I’ll be able to inhale that familiar sweet aroma.

This spring has been beautiful. There was honeysuckle growing on my neighbor’s chain link fence.  It was along the path where I walk Brock each morning.  And it was all along the Potomac River where I walk Brock each night. Morning, noon and night I’ve been able to thank God for His gift of honeysuckle.

I love Spring. I hope you do too.

Peace friends,

Chuck

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3 Comments

  • Marianne says:

    Honeysuckle grew in our yard in the Mt. Vernon area when I was growing up. We used to pick the flowers and suck the honey right out when we were kids! Thanks for the happy memory.

  • Ian Roberts says:

    you’re so right Chuck … I slow down and drift myself through the sweet aroma whenever I come through some of it … and heck, I’ll take weeds like honeysuckle any time … and such pretty tendrils and colors, just look at your photograph thank you Kathleen Conklin (good to the credit given the artist) … Ian Roberts

  • Joani Peacock says:

    So lovely. The scent of honeysuckle takes me back to my childhood days at
    my family’s summer cottage on the Severn
    River outside of Annapolis on Butternut Road. Running around in
    shorts and flip flops, eating Chesapeake Bay Blue crabs,
    and staying out late at night to catch fireflies
    in jelly jars that has holes punched in the lids.
    Lovely honeysuckle. Lovely summer memory.

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