Sunday, April 22, 2007


My roots more closely resemble those of a honeysuckle vine rather than an oak tree. Like the vines, I've stretched so far from my roots that we hardly bear any relationship to one another. Like the roots, my spirit is always alive, but hidden by dirt and no one knows for sure if I will reappear. My branches look like dead sticks most of the year, tough brown extenders woven into chain link fences, creeping along the ground and around trees. Then spring comes and the woody stems show tiny buds of green. Soon the green vines are growing madly, sprouting leaves and clinging to everything in their path. Finally flowers of purest white burst forth, dispensing their clean sweet scent throughout the neighborhood.

That's me and my creativity. It may only be noticeable a few times a year, but when it blooms, it's sweet.


Remiman said...

Ah, years ago I cleaned out a plot of ground that had become overgrown with honeysuckle. I know how deep and prevasive your roots run and how sweet the flower that appears so fleetingly every year. I also know how well those roots hold the soil together. ;-0
Welcome to SS.

Big A said...

Nice juxtaposition in this image, it makes me want to be outside!

nonizamboni said...

I hadn't thought about the more shallow roots of honeysuckle but what a nice metaphor. . .not to mention the wonderful fragrance of your creativity.
Exciting and soothing. Thanks!