I
noticed that I left something off my list of invasives yesterday. I did so
unintentionally, though I can’t deny that it is one of my favorite shrubs this
time of year. As I sit here now in the late afternoon sun, the smell of
honeysuckle is carried all around, a slightly sweet fragrance that would seem
more fitting to accompany a sultry midsummer night than a waning spring day.
The
bushes seem to thrive here, and I know we should fight them by pulling and
burning – after all they do crowd out
the understory and shade-tolerant greens. But those small white flowers by the
hundreds perfume the air, much like Jasmine we experienced in Tucson.
It is
true too. Pluck a honeysuckle flower when it is ripe, pull of the petals and
sepals till only the receptacle remains. Begin by pinching below the receptacle
on the stalk, and roll your fingers so that you slowly squeeze, and the tiny
nectaries within will reward you with a single small drop of clear nectar that
does, indeed, taste like honey water.
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