Maybe it will come back for another round later in the year. Maybe the cool weather we've been having lately has sent it back into hiding.
Anyway, while it was here, I loved the honeysuckle so much. Most people consider it a weed. I consider it lovely. Sure, it's invasive and will probably take over the world one day. But what's so bad about that?
What's so terrible about an old fence dripping with green green vines and yellow flowers? What's so terrible about the way honeysuckle starts smelling all delicious right at sunset? (Okay, I can think of one terrible thing about that ... the delicious smell lures me out of the house right at peak mosquito time. I think the honeysuckle and mosquitos are in league together.)
Anyway, I still love the smell of honeysuckle and refuse to let Darwin trim back the voluminous vines on both left and right fences. When it's not honeysuckle season, I wear out my sniffer seeking realistic honeysuckle-scented bath products. I have yet to find one. The closest isn't honeysuckle at all but Milk & Honey, which I have (and adore) in both hand soap and shampoo.
I fell in love with the smell of honeysuckle in middle school. We lived on 108 acres, much of which had beautiful, wide paths through woods and fields and around ponds. Being in the middle of a sentimental, Victorian-novel-style pre-teen phase, I liked to stroll along these paths and compose bad rhyming poetry about nature.
The one I considered the best was an ode to honeysuckle. If I can find it tonight, I'll post it and embarrass myself thoroughly.
I couldn't find the poem, but I do remember it contained a line comparing honeysuckle to strings of Christmas lights. Gag.