The Honeysuckle That Ate Temescal Street

My irrationally-exuberant Lonicera halliana. As you can see, it's impeding traffic on the front walk, but it's covered in buds ... I absolutely cannot bear to cut any of it back. So we've been learning to walk sideways, carrying groceries, guitar cases, what have you.

The title derives from a family saying ... I was born in Long Beach, CA, on Temescal Street. I can't even remember what flora it was that threatened to take over there, but now whenever anything outgrows itself, it's "the ___________ that ate Temescal Street". Sort of like "The Mother of All ___________", without the unfortunate geo-political associations.

The fragrance of honeysuckle is swoonable, although they make unsatisfying cut flowers, what with the sequential bloom. I love how the blossoms open white, then fade through parchment to honey. I was reading last night about how Lantana blossoms (a favored butterfly food source) change from yellow to orange to red. This seems to be associated with the draining of nectar, a caveat emptor to the butterflies so they don't waste their time on empty blossoms and become disenchanted with the plant. I wonder if something similar is going on with the honeysuckle.