When you walk out of our front door at this time of year, you cannot help but smell the honeysuckle that run the length of our side yard. It is one of my favorite smells, honeysuckle. I associate it with my grandmother. She had them in her backyard. She was the one to show me how to suck the sweet liquid out of the middle. For whatever reason, it is one of those memories that is more vivid than others - it has stuck with me.
I taught Charlotte how to drink the drip of liquid out of the honeysuckles last year. This year, she learned again. I'm fairly certain that the honeysuckle in our yard are laced with some sort of addictive drug. She can't seem to get enough of them. She has filled up cups and cups with the flowers. I have had at least one cup of wilting honeysuckles sitting in my fridge for a couple of days now. She says she is going to eat them for snack.
Maybe it is something to do with a primeval need to forage for food?
Never quite sure if she has enough.
Maybe I can find some recipes on Pinterest that use honeysuckle?
By the way, this is what happens to a photographer's child...they become unable to smile normally for the camera.
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