Nothing was as much anticipated as the flowers of the honeysuckle vine. That one trembling straw colored drop of heaven at the base of the stamen. I remember being too young to know how to get it out. I remember feeling so sad when the end of the stamen broke off and the drop of bliss was lost. I remember rubbing the spent blossoms on my wrists so I would smell like a flower. I enjoyed eating sourgrass, Indian grass, chewing on grass, and munching the occasional flower petal...but oh that honeysuckle, the aroma, the skill, the anticipation..it was just so exciting.
I hate the heat, the humidity, palmetto bugs, fireants, cow killer ants, it's doubtful I'd ever willingly live there again. I would like to visit again during honeysuckle time and I'd like to have some while hearing frogs and the whip-poor-will. :)