Smell The Honeysuckle!

Between the ages of 2 and 6 I lived in Maryland. I had the best time. Riding bikes outside, forgetting how to use the breaks, flipping over guardrails, calling my mom from some lady’s house that didn’t speak English, you know the average childhood antics. Good times, good times.

Another good time was going to the library. For a family with five kids, a free library card from Howard County was just the ticket for most summer afternoons when we were bouncing off the walls. We would go, spend some time out of the house and pick out some books. When we would walk out to the car, my mom would most often say, “Smell the honeysuckle.” She wouldn’t just say it though; she would exclaim it refreshingly as though she had just received a present she had always wanted. When we were little and had no idea what things lived in bushes or peed on them, we would suck out the nectar. I do not do that anymore, but I do still on occasion, smell the honeysuckle.

There has been a recent rash of such occasions. On 222 going toward Kutztown there are bushes along the highway. There is honeysuckle there. And when I am driving down the hill and singing at the top of my lungs, I get hit with the unmistakable fragrance and have no choice, but to smell the honeysuckle. I think it is funny how so many years later I still feel like a little kid when I smell it. Sweet and flowery with a hint of savory, what’s not to love? Just kidding about the savory part, but some people will get a kick out of that, Janelle and Jen I’m sure, will remember the reference.

In any case, as long as I live I hope to equate that smell with a fun summer afternoon at the library and the admonition of my mother to be thankful and always surprised at the sweet unexpected blessing of honeysuckle.