Honeysuckle decorates
our country roadsides with charming beauty right now. Climbing upward and over small
trees or spreading along untended fence rows, the honeysuckle’s white and
yellow blossoms are thick and lovely on this beginning of June.
I have a strong
emotional attachment to honeysuckle going back to my childhood. At the end of our front porch across from the
school in Jonesboro ,
there was a wall of honeysuckle giving off its wonderful aroma when we sat down
to rest or swing on the glider there. Someone
taught me how to pick a bloom and suck the sweetness out. I have used
honeysuckle in flower arrangements for weddings or everyday bouquets. And I have fond long-ago memories when we
first moved to this country road of rolling down the car windows to smell the
honeysuckle along our road when I came home late at night from play practices. Later
when we first built this house, Gerald even planted some on the end of our deck
outside our bedroom door.
It took over and
became troublesome, and we had to give it up, although there is plenty over on
our tiny island in the lake. Nevertheless, when I first heard the term
“invasive species” about my beloved honeysuckle, I felt personally
attacked. It took a hike along with the
school children following a worker at Shawnee National Forest
So in spite of myself,
I think of that when I enjoy the abundant roadside honeysuckle in all its glory
right now. The birds will spread its
berry seeds in places where it will be unwelcome. In the meantime, the bees and hummingbirds and I will
enjoy it just as the early pioneers did when it twined around their
cabin doors.
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2 comments:
Your comments about honeysuckle brought back many memories for me as well. I loved driving out by Uncle Ogle's house at night and smelling the honeysuckle. But mostly I remember the whip-poor-wills calling at night when we would be sitting on their porch. For 50 years now I have lived in Central Illinois and would like to hear them again. Just yesterday when working in the garden I heard "bob white." That is the first I remember hearing that here, too; although my husband remembers hunting quail for his grandmother to eat. He must have been too good at it! Thanks for the memories.
Janet Burcham
Thanks for your memories also, Janet. Good to remember your Uncle Ogle again and think about the reunion get-togethers that the family had each year. I was always impressed with how that set of cousins kept in touch with one another to the very end. Touching. Thanks for visiting and commenting.
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