“There is a profound peace found only in non-reactivity.” ~ Brian Thompson
Even though it was a balmy 90 degrees, the evening breeze was calling my name. Chores complete(ish), book in hand, out I went to read and soak up the evening. I was two pages in when I caught a strong whiff of honeysuckle. Chainsaw Charlie’s yard is full of the invasive woody bush, but for all the mess he and his yard are, this is the one time of the year when I can stand it. I more than stand it, I inhale it from the very bottom of me feet. Instantly, I was transported to the old baseball field in West Liberty. Some people only know it as the football field – the piss-marked dugouts long gone – and pretty soon they won’t even remember that what with a new Herdman field now in use at Index. But there was a time in West Liberty when baseball and softball ruled the day. Both mom and dad played in leagues (I did, too, as a teenager). Dad played the most, or at least it’s his games I remember best. They played on the only field the town had back in the 1960’s and that was the field shared with the football field behind the WPA High School. The field was fenced in, and over time, the fence had become encased in a wall of honeysuckle so thick there was a tunnel walkway inside. And if you wanted a little smoke or a little drink during the games, this was the place to do it (don’t ask me how I know). But for a child, it was the smell of the honeysuckle during the spring games that made the biggest impression. There was so much honeysuckle you could pull the stem from the blooms and suck the sweet nectar until you were nearly sick. Those were glorious days for me, and tonight I took a little trip back to that time. The nectar is still sweet.
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