Honeysuckle Time

It's honeysuckle time at G's house. 

Honeysuckle and the wild, pink roadside roses that once grew on the banks of the road that used to be dirt beside of G's house always brought the anticipation that summer would be along any day. 
The dirt road and the roadside roses are gone, but the old, red one beside the back screen door is still there. And it's more magnificent than ever this year. 

This year...of all years...needed the rose's extra brilliance and beauty.

This spring...of all springs..wanted the honeysuckle to bloom sweet and mellow.

Maybe next year the children can come and drink the honeyed sweetness from the little yellow vials fresh from the vine. Maybe next year spring can come unhindered and unsullied. But still we are thankful for the beauty, even if it must be appreciated in solitude.

A breeze blew softly, slightly rippling the water as it carried the heady scents of late Carolina springtime through the air. Honeysuckle. Jasmine. Ripe, pungent river mud. 

Ah, the world felt right.

Caitlin Rush


Behold, children are a gift of the Lord.  (Psalm 127:3)