I missed honeysuckle season this spring, was traveling or getting ready to travel, so I’ve relished the second bloom of this aromatic weed. It is a weed, I think, or at least it acts like one: tumbling over fences and hedges, showing up uninvited in garden plots. I love it, though. Love the way its aroma takes me back to childhood, to the days when we played outside all day long. So yesterday I picked a sprig, brought it home and put it in a tiny vase. I’m sniffing it even as I write these words. The scent of spring, transported to fall.