Honeysuckle Days

Honeysuckle Sorbet with Vanilla

I was walking along this sunny afternoon, my mind consumed with so many details.
I don't even remember all of the things I was mulling over. I remember how utterly exhausted I was.
I remember being stressed over things that need to get done, and over things I didn't understand.

Suddenly, I passed a thicket of honeysuckle with fragrance so strong, it stopped me where I stood. I turned to look. It branched out everywhere. Its blooms golden and white, nectarous and profusive. It spilled over the walkway, over other plants, arching across and above farther than one could hope to reach.

It was completely arresting. Everything I'd been stressing about melted away in that moment, transporting me back in time to a childhood memory so deep, I'd forgotten it was there.

It was the first really warm weekend of the season. It was invigorating and exhilarating. Mom wouldn't let us wear shorts unless it was due to be a full 80 degrees out, lest we come home with the sniffles from fluctuating morning/evening temps. We broke out the shorts, and my parents started plotting a barbecue!

The momentous nature of this occasion must be explained. My family was deeply rooted in their community. We had lots of friends all over the country - sometimes in others - and we simply had little need of buying a grill. We were always getting invited to more barbecues than we could manage to attend in a season. Our dinner guests were unbelievably spoiled when they decided to hold one, but there just wasn't much need for it. We had some great times.

Friends looked forward to what we might bring, and usually requested specifics they knew my mother or father made, and my parents looked forward to bringing them or teaching us how to make them ourselves. It was a win-win.

But I secretly in my heart-of-hearts wished they would buy a grill, for nothing more than our own pleasure. We had a great backyard. Being the outdoors kid of the troop, I was often out with my Dad in it, learning how to chop wood, care for whatever animals were nearby- including our neighbors', types of wild plants, how to grow things, annoying my brothers, and so on. We were good friends, that fella and I.

But there was a paved concrete patio which was perfect for a grill, and it truly vexed me that they hadn't seemed to notice. We kids chalked the patio up on occasion, drew on it with sticks, used the cracks in it to divide groups for dodge ball, and basically brought it to life in every way possible... except grilling on it. To my young mind this time of year the absent fragrance of charred sausages, hot dogs, and hamburgers - the mingling of oniony potato salad and sweet grilled corn would send me into a wistful daydream whenever I looked out of our back window at that bare spot. You could say it called to me...

So this particular May, my parent's anniversary was coming up, and Mom being given to impromptu ideas, hit upon the notion of buying a small grill, just for us! I was ecstatic! Oh my goodness! Oh my gosh! We get a grill! We get a grill! I squealed in delight!

I didn't have to wait for our next invitation, or stand in a long line behind whoever might be taller or actual grown-ups, trying to be polite and on my best behavior with my feet getting antsy from all of the smells....

 I could already see the char-marks on the chicken thigh that would be mine! In the overall family hierarchy, I was second-to-the-youngest - or the 'knee-baby'. I didn't complain. Mine was the lot to be happy with what I was given, and make the most of it. My mouth was watering! They went to the store, and I asked what could I make for my assignment. I believe we ended up doing a couple of things. We weren't well-off folks. They both cooked - professionally at times - and were deferential to the other's specialties. But the grill they had to 'discuss'. 😉

We always had food though, and this was no exception: potato salad, green beans, chicken, burgers, and hot dogs. Mom made her mac and cheese! We had rolls and all of the trimmings. It was a plain, old-fashioned charcoal grill with a dome you lift off. By today's standards, it was nothing fancy, but the euphoria! My dream had come true!

I danced and whirled under the trees until I got dizzy from turning, ran with our latest specimen of four-footed fuzziness to the deepest edges of the backyard, where the flowering vines grew over the back fence, and stood by myself. I prayed in thanksgiving in my own little way I'd learned. It was certainly a spiritual moment!

My arms were wide open - palms up and fingers spread, and the sun was shining on my wiry limbs and joyous face with closed eyes. I could hear my brothers shouting at one another, the swish of the net, the thump of the basketball glancing off our backyard shed. My parents were alternately laughing and teasing through the open window over fixing the vittles and lighting the grill. The baby girl was inside tottering around near Mom who had donned an actual apron - one she had made herself. Our pup was hopping up and down with me, tickled to death at all of the smells and investigating the sights near my feet... And life - as I knew it - could not have gotten any better.

These honeysuckle days...will always be the sweetest to me.

Happy Cooking