Honeysuckle has declared war on our home every year since we have lived here.

It stalks the rose bushes. Its vines winding so tightly around each branch as to choke the life from its foe. It is quite a tedious job chopping the honeysuckle back. We do not want it to win its campaign. We rather like our yard.

It tries to break apart our fence and we must ever be watchful. To spend one summer neglectful at our post would be to let the honeysuckle win.

Our neighbors have given up. Their white flag began blowing five years ago. Showing itself in the flailing wisps of white flowers swaying in the breeze. It takes over the slope in their front yard. Always trying to creep its way onto ours. Their backyard is immaculately maintained except for the slope that leads from their yard to ours. That was a concession prize, if you will, to the honeysuckle. The enemy was allowed to keep one hostage. It would like more.

As much as I hate the honeysuckle, I also cannot help but admire it. Its tenaciousness could be a lesson to us all. On nights when the sun seems to be fighting Mother Earth for one more hour to play before its bedtime, I love to lounge outside. I watch the petulant child slowly losing his battle. His wails of disappointment, flashing pink and red across the sky. I breathe in the sweet scent of the honeysuckle’s victory perfume. And I am grateful for one more day to witness this beautiful war of nature slowly being fought around me.

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And My Romantic Home