As I rounded the corner just at the beginning of my walk the other morning, a sweet, heady scent stopped me in my tracks. I was suddenly transported back 45 years to the place my husband lived when we were first dating. The scent was honeysuckle and the huge hedge of honeysuckle outside Ron’s apartment in 1976 seemed to suddenly be in front of me. They say that smells have a stronger link to memory and emotion than any of the other senses. I believe it. I hadn’t seen or smelled honeysuckle since he left that apartment when we got married. It brought back fond memories of those early days. The honeysuckle I smelled yesterday probably escaped from a neighbor’s yard. It was mostly lost in the other shrubs by the sidewalk but a single sprig emerged from the center of a large rock rose shrub and the morning breeze wafted its lovely scent in the air. It was such a nice experience I knew I had to commemorate it. And so, once again, my flower filching tendencies emerged. I picked the sprig and brought it home so I could add it to my floral shelter-in-place focus shift photograph collection.
