Skip to main content

The Scent of Honeysuckle


They say that our olfactory sense is the last to go; that up 'til the end when our memories of names and faces and places are gone, we can remember certain smells.  I can instantly remember the smell of burning leaves, the richness of a plowed field after a summer rain, and potatoes frying in a skillet.  I can remember the smell of mimeograph machine ink from fifty years ago, and the Vick's salve that Mama rubbed on our throats.  I remember waking up to the smell of coffee and bacon cooking every morning of my childhood.  Nothing smelled as good as honeysuckle.


We knew it was spring then, when we played outside by the porch light and our bare feet got slick with dew, and it was like being in a perfume factory with the wild honeysuckle blooming along fence rows and road sides.  Later, when we were dating, we rode those country roads with the car windows down, listening to music with the smell of honeysuckle intensifying the young love being born.



In the late 1800s, in an effort to stop erosion in their fields, farmers were encouraged to plant the vines.  It was useful sometimes, but it wouldn't stop growing and spreading and soon became a nuisance, competing with corn and cotton for moisture and nutrients. The grown-ups hated it, but we didn't care.  We loved it because it smelled so good.  We even bought honeysuckle scented lotion and perfume. 


Unlike a lot of things from my childhood, the honeysuckle has lasted.  Driving down Cox Creek Parkway with the windows down last night, the honeysuckle aroma permeated everything, much to my delight and to the dismay of those suffering from allergies. And I remembered. 

In the language of flowers, honeysuckle meant sweetness of disposition because of the sweet scent of the flowers.  It also implied a bond or meant "captive of love," suggested by the plant's twining growth habit that embraces trees and other plants.  The common name woodbine comes from Middle English and refers to the ability of the plant to tie or bind as it grows and climbs.  Bobby J. Ward, A Contemplation Upon Flowers: Garden Plants in Myth and Literature

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Amish in Stantonville, Tennessee

Last week, my sis and her hub went with us to the Amish community near Stantonville, Tennessee.  It was a beautiful day, and we love driving to new places and finding new treasures.  We enjoy these mini-trips we take together, where we giggle a lot and get caught up on everything.  Also, the squirrels ate all our tomatoes, so we needed to find some to buy. You know the food you are buying is fresh when they bring it from the field while you are standing there waiting for it. Here is part of what we brought home, and it was all delicious. Stantonville is located in McNairy County, Tennessee, northwest of Shiloh National Military Park.

Holy Smoke Pie

I think it was in the late seventies that I first had Holy Smoke Pie.  It was at a party at Debra Morris Harville's house.  After we ate, Debra had to give the recipe to everyone there.  I came home and made it for my family, and it has been a favorite since then.  I always make it at holiday dinners, because I believe tradition is important.  It has become a favorite of our granddaughters. I've heard it called Chocolate Delight, Four-Layer Chocolate Dessert, and other odd things.  We call it Holy Smoke.  Here is how I make it: Chop us a cup of pecans; set aside. Add a stick of softened butter (NOT margarine) to one cup of self-rising flour. Cut the butter into the flour. Add the chopped pecans, and work it all together. Save two tablespoons of the pecans to sprinkle on top. Pour into a 9" x 12" pan that has been sprayed with cooking oil. Spread it over the bottom of the pan.  It helps to use your hands (or hand, if you have t

Cedar Trees in Cemeteries

If you ever wander in old cemeteries, and I know many of you do, you are bound to see some cedar trees. The tradition goes back to the early days of the United States and even earlier  in Europe.  Cedar trees were not always used, but some type of evergreen trees were planted because they were a symbol of everlasting life.  Some  Cherokees believed that cedars contained powerful spirits, including the spirits of the departed buried beneath them. Perhaps because they are known as burial trees, there are many superstitions that surround cedars.  My grandmother told us in no uncertain terms that if we planted a cedar tree, we would die when it was large enough to shade our graves. Some others are: Never transplant a cedar tree; it will bring bad luck. If you transplant a cedar and it dies, you will die shortly. Planting a cedar tree in your yard welcomes poverty. Some say Christ was crucified on a cedar tree, and will bring bad luck if you burn it. If a cedar tree com