A Forsythia farewell

No, my beloved young forsythia is not going anywhere, don't worry. I've just decided that today's post featuring said forsythia is the last one for this year.

In the last nine months, I have likened the forsythia to the young learning (or not) from the elder, played by the 40-year-old crabapple in our front yard. Less than a month ago, I took a companion shot to go with my earlier post, this one showing the youth growing past the outstretched limb of its elder.


I have shown the lovely and very sturdy little plant throwing yellow flowers with glee, even as the snow gathered around her ankles.

Today, she is again in transition. Slowly, the yellow flowers are falling as the new green leaves take their place on the many arms of this plant I love. Those splayed branches, curving however they wish regardless of gravity's influence, show an elegance which is wild and free. It troubles me when, as I drive around the neighborhood, I see forsythias which have been trimmed and pruned to look like some prissy little, proper plant. These are plants who know no boundaries if we allow them to be what they are.

You can see in this photo that my little one is not shy about throwing open her arms wide to the universe. For today, given her mixed colors, I have nicknamed her Succotashia.


You can see what I foresee of her future, and what I hold in my mind's eye as her dream. This is what I wish for her. This, for each of us in our own dreams, this knowing of a day of fulfillment, this insistence on a life full of promise and joy, this, my friends, is why I keep coming back here and doing my word doodles. I know there is magic yet to be performed and plenty of miracles yet to be created as if out of nothing. I know I will be right there in the middle of it all, not sitting idly by in the audience! Won't you join me? The stage is as big as all outdoors.

This dream I dream for my forsythia is a magnificent, 50-year-old plant in Maryland. It is a single forsythia, and what a beauty to behold.