forsythia always reminds me of my grandfather, my father’s father. he loved to cut forsythia early in the spring before it bloomed and bring some inside and force it. i don’t blame him. there is something about the little yellow blossoms that says spring. hope. life. joy.
recently our forsythia came into bloom. i had forgotten we even had it to be honest. it has been such a long winter and we have only been in this house about 10 months. but as soon as i saw it in out in the yard i remembered seeing it when i first saw this house and thinking, “i can live there because look at the forsythia.” there is a spot at the beginning of our driveway that has about five small bushes. and then there are about eight along the fence in the backyard.
it cheers me up. there is a glimmer of me in it. i don’t know why. i have some issue with cutting live plants and bringing them in but i decided that i would take some forsythia springs as a gift for the family we are staying with tonight. for them and also for me. i made them a large arrangement in a vase i don’t mind leaving behind. in making it i had to pull of several beautiful blooms which i hated to do. the ones on a stem long enough to salvage went in the bud vase for me to keep.
growth is good. lets bloom.