Tuesday, December 6, 2011


      The Honeysuckle where I live was I believe introduced to North American in the 1800's.  It has a white bloom which can fill an early summer evening with extravagant fragrance and even happier bees.  Which means when the days are longer, and the light is gentler, an innocent gardener can bask a moment, run his hand through the soft leaves, feel the earth smile, and he can be quite unaware of a Honeysuckle's ambition to dominate the land, its trees and its people.

 
     Then after the first frost there are the few who can be found dragging Honeysuckle vines to the outdoor stove and boiling them up.  Happy hours in that sort of weather which makes the nose red and the fingers cold.  And there is not much more to do while boiling Honeysuckle than an occasional stoke between ideas of what might happen to a winter if there's not enough Honeysuckle.



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