At some point in May, I remembered one of the most fleeting pleasures of last spring. For a while, we slept with the windows open. All night the room throbbed with a sweet, thick perfume. The source? Linda's honeysuckle vine. It climbs across the fence dividing our properties. That's the same strip where her raspberries have colonized our land, providing us with a bounty of fruit in early July. Look out the eastern windows and you see roses, raspberries, lilacs, and these honeysuckle flowers. Right now, they welcome you when you come in the back gate.
It's hot here - suddenly - so we can't sleep with the windows open as we did last year. Still. I love honeysuckle. I love that in the path from spring to summer I can count on the honeysuckle to mark the transition.
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