Honeysuckle 2

Don't you tire of this?

Tire of what?

The Honeysuckle, the limestone cliffs, the pink sunsets, and the green-blue water of the creek. Don't you ever tire of it all?

Yes.

So why continue with it over and over?

I guess because the alternatives are just so grim. Really, that's about all I know how to do -- drown it all out with color or music or the sweet fragrance of Honeysuckle on a cool evening.

11:06:43 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

Honeysuckle 1

The dog pulled at the leash, first this way and then that. We took the long walk by the middle school and around the far side of the soccer fields.

At the far side, the highway roars from across the chain link fence. And at the margins of the fields near the fence, weeds grow four feet tall, pushing up between disassembled soccer goals and a mass of plastic and paper and styrofoam litter.

We stopped for a moment. I picked up a bottle to recycle. The dog inspected a weed. The air was filled with a sweet fragrance. I looked up to see where it was coming from.

Here, at the far corner of the fields, the fence was hidden under Honeysuckle vines with whitish-yellow blossoms more numerous than the slender leaves. I reached over to smell one.

And then we went home.

10:49:39 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []