Gentle breezes . . .

Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.

I texted some friends yesterday just because I could.

I woke up early this morning and walked outside. The early morning sky was grey, but there was nothing but cool gentle breezes stirring the branches of the trees. The Alabama air smelled like it is supposed to this time of the year, sweet with honeysuckle, privet, magnolia and other unidentified blossoms.  I took a walk. I made pictures.

Magnolia trees are symbolic of the south.  The heavy lemony sweet smell, the huge, porcelain white blossoms.  And, for those who only read about such things in romantic novels, the magnolia tree is an excellent climbing tree, especially for the beginner. The branches start low on the trunk, and are spaced as if the master creator envisioned a natural playground, the low heavy leaves creating the perfect hideout. And the seed cones are perfectly designed for throwing at any adversary that might come along. And magnolias predated bees. They were designed to be pollinated by beetles.

And then there is the honeysuckle, a main ingredient of such aromatic mornings. The honeysuckle is confidently capable of claiming and holding its own ground, but with southern discretion. Honeysuckle is not nearly so pushy or insistent as the invasive kudzu vine, which, while flourishing, has not yet learned southern manners. Again, for those who know honeysuckle only from a book, it too creates cavernous rooms within its vines, perfect for a comfortable hide and seek location.  And one could, I suspect, sustain one's energy for quite a while by sucking the nectar from the snipped end of the honeysuckle bloom. Try it if you haven't . . .or if you haven't for awhile.  Pick the bloom, pinch off the end where it attached to the vine, and pull the white threadlike stem backward through the narrow end of the bloom. A little drop of sweet nectar will appear. Drink it. It's gotta be good for you.




And then there's privet. Most of the time privet is my nemesis. It grows everywhere  you let it, elbowing its way into spaces meant for other plants, creating a never ending battle up on my hillside.  But in the spring, the runaway privet blooms profusely, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere of early mornings and late evenings. Don't get confused and try to suck the nectar out of a privet bloom, or eat its berries.  It's a little bit poisonous.  But it sure smells good. I admire and appreciate it much like I do a skilled adversary.

I am thankful for gentle breezes this morning.  Breezes not filled with the strong scents of broken pine, or rain drenched soil from a recently exposed root ball from an uprooted tree, or the distinct smell of electrical fire.

But gentle breezes heavy with wonderful aromas from spring blooms, the harbinger of new, promising life.

Here's wishing us all nothing but gentle breezes this year.