On my way home from work, I turned off the radio as soon as I crossed the Shockoe Valley bridge and opened the roof and rolled down the windows. It was really nice riding home with nothing but the sound of wind.
The closer I got to home the smell of honeysuckle got more redolent. I’m always amazed at how that smell can remind me of being a wee whippersnapper waiting for the end of school and those first glorious days of summer vacation.
Once, before we were married, the better-half and I traveled to Texas during the month of May. One of the first smells I sniffed on the way home from the airport was honeysuckle. I remember looking at him and saying that’s what its supposed to smell like here. He agreed and I knew that was reason #456 of why he was a keeper.
That’s so weird. My friend in Buffalo says she can smell it at her house, and now you. I can see the honeysuckle, but I can not yet smell it. Maybe another sunny day is needed, as they have been few and far between here. Now that the tree pollen is lessening and the sinuses are drained, I can’t wait to get a whiff.