Not everything in a garden—even a garden that's bursting with cool, colorful, creative stuff like (ahem) mine—can be an eye-popping marvel. There will always be plenty of room, well, some room, for the more modest spear carriers that fill in the background from one diva to the next.
Like Northern bush honeysuckle. (Yes, it's a bush, not a vine. Yes, there's a Southern bush honeysuckle, Lonicera nitida, that isn't really hardy North of New York.) Normally this bush honeysuckle is a boring green suckering groundcovering "hardship" shrub, so hardy it's perfect for problem spots in rocks-and-lichen locales like Newfoundland and Nome. Why, then, do I waste space on it here in balmy Rhode Island? There are limits to what I can tolerate in a non-interesting plant, even if it's also a rarely-planted one. Well, I've got the "interesting" Northern bush honeysuckle, 'Copper'.
The new leaves are, indeed, modestly copper, in the modest copper-beech sense of "copper".
And like everything with new foliage that's more colorful than the old, the plant benefits from a serious massacre each Spring or at least every other Spring. Then it's sure to send up loads of new branches, each with the copper leaves. WAIT: Don't fall asleep yet: Look at the leaves in close-up. Interesting, eh?

And with small (really small) but attractively-pale yellow flowers that are tasteful and perky indeed with their copper-beech-colored backdrop.
OK, it's still a modest show. But at least it's long-lasting: the plant blooms for months, getting new copper foliage all the while.
True, this isn't a shrub you can hang even a modest display on. It is, though, hardy to Zone 3 (are you listening, Nome?), grows several feet a year, and suckers with enthusiasm. So it might be the perfect solution for a large bank that you needed to cover with weed-proof horticulture in, say, two years. Not many options there, especially that are this economical. Or would work in Nome. It's perhaps very good news that, pace The Wizard of Oz, there's no place like Nome.

I never met a spice bush I didn't like. Easy to see why: The leaves reek of cinnamon and clove when crushed, so of course deer leave this shrub alone. And the flowers have a unique-in-hardy-plants fruity-banana fragrance. The American versions, and there are several, have small but profuse flowers for some weeks in Spring and into Summer; the unusually-long blooming season is reason enough to grow it right there. And they are all impressively, even scarily, shade-tolerant. More shade-tolerant even than yews, oh yes. And so I even plant spice bushes in Manhattan, in gardens surrounded by skyscrapers and shaded directly overhead by huge trees. So far so good, but then there's a Chinese cousin too. It was crossed with the American to create the pink-flowered beauty you see here, 'Hartlage Wine'. And this one is in one of my Manhattan client gardens, with scarcely any sun. And look how happy it is.
What you can't see is that it's already eight feet tall and only four years old. What a performer!
Yes yes, the flowers are pink. Unashamedly, excitedly, exuberantly. Fine: that's why I have two enormous Pink Borders. Hartlage Wine: come home to papa.