My smart and good-writer-ly/good-dress-er-ly friend Julie posted on her blog today about one of my favorite things about springtime. My dad used to say that you can always tell when spring is near, because the forsythias are the first thing to bloom. As soon as I see them start (generally in the second or third week of March), I begin to get excited, because it means that springtime-and-butterflies-and-flowers-and-rain-and-good-smelling-things are nearing.
I've learned a lot of life lessons from these guys.
Forsythia bushes have some of the yellowest yellow flowers I have ever seen. Against the backdrop of a whole lotta gray, they make a difference like you wouldn't believe.
But forsythias are really brave little guys too. I also know every year, when I see them start to bloom, that it will snow a few more times before they're done...but they do it anyway, every single time. And they beam, brightly brightly through the wet, freezing snow, in spite of themselves.
And when they're finishing up, which is what they're beginning to do now, their goldenness melts into green--not anything too ostentatious. Just a soft, pale, kindly sort of green. Kind of like the background of this blog. The forsythias leave just enough of a hint of the gold blazing against gray there within the green to remind themselves of what they can become, but their day is over, for now. Their job was to lead out--to remind the world of the glory it can become, just when it was beginning to think it was too gray to do it. They last just long enough to give all the other flowers the courage to begin blossoming...and then they pass the baton and stay in the background, a foundation of quiet strength for the other flowers, all the while reminding them to follow their example and be bold in their bloom.
But after their time, they're happy to retire to simply being green, a backdrop for the other flowers to let them shine.
I'd like to be a forsythia.
I've learned a lot of life lessons from these guys.
Forsythia bushes have some of the yellowest yellow flowers I have ever seen. Against the backdrop of a whole lotta gray, they make a difference like you wouldn't believe.
And when they're finishing up, which is what they're beginning to do now, their goldenness melts into green--not anything too ostentatious. Just a soft, pale, kindly sort of green. Kind of like the background of this blog. The forsythias leave just enough of a hint of the gold blazing against gray there within the green to remind themselves of what they can become, but their day is over, for now. Their job was to lead out--to remind the world of the glory it can become, just when it was beginning to think it was too gray to do it. They last just long enough to give all the other flowers the courage to begin blossoming...and then they pass the baton and stay in the background, a foundation of quiet strength for the other flowers, all the while reminding them to follow their example and be bold in their bloom.
But after their time, they're happy to retire to simply being green, a backdrop for the other flowers to let them shine.
I'd like to be a forsythia.
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If I could give a facebook thumbs up, meaning, "Vaughn likes this"....I would.
I love forsythias too. We have a whole hedge of them in front of our apartment complex. we went out the other day and clipped some off for a vase on our table.
But, fyi, to those of you who may read this who are thinking, "I think I'll plant some in my yard someday," be warned: Forsythia bloom on the previous year's wood. So, don't prune them in the fall or winter like so many other trees and bushes. These won't have any blooms if you cut it all off while it is dormant. You have to wait until after the blooms are done, then you can prune it...
I wish our apartment manager knew that...