The Scent of Summer

A honeysuckle grows by our back door. It’s the only plant relic of the garden that existed before we moved here.

It thrives in this shady spot, growing rampant and flowering prolifically. It billows around a trellis frame; it reaches up and across the moss-covered roof; it spills over the side of the dry stone wall. The bees adore it.

Each night I walk up the lane at dusk, having put the hens to bed. And the deep, saturated perfume comes rushing to embrace me while I’m still some distance from the house. In the gathering darkness, the pale pink blooms take on a pearlescent shimmer.

It’s so outrageously beautiful. Flamboyant with its blossoms, profligate with its scent. That intoxicating scent. That scent that spells summer.

Comments

[Kate Godin]

So much abundance in these recent posts, Helen! Dixon Hill seems so lush and fertile now -- it's gorgeous as is your chronicling of it. Miss you!

[ali]

so delicately gorgeous! xoxo