I was out on a bike ride, contemplating life, when I was hit in the face by a familiar smell on the wind: honeysuckle! It snuck up on me fast and left me in a near-aroma-coma.
When I was a kid in Georgia, I’d go walking and playing just about any old place I wanted in the summer. (It was a different time.) And it seemed like I always came across honeysuckle. It grows like a weed really, and it just sort of pops up randomly. In the woods. Along the side of the road. And, I have to make clear, some people do actually plant it.
Anyhoo, I would pull the blossoms from the vine and suck the sweet nectar. I guess I only ever picked about 10 or so flowers at the most. The amount of nectar in each flower is negligible. But it’s tasty, just the same. After a few minutes, I usually moved on to whatever great adventure my kid-day held. That’s the thing about being a kid: there’s always something more to do. To discover. To see. In the end, you sort of take the small things for granted. Small things, like honeysuckle.
Back to my present-day bike ride… I somehow convinced myself I did not need to lie face-down in the honeysuckle patch along the bike path. Instead, I tucked away my memories and rode on home.
Okay. I did pull a couple of blossoms…