Forsythias are out in full force this week. Lots of yellow everywhere it seems. This is the bush right next to our garden; it provides quite a rush when leaving the back door. Interesting bush, this forsythia-- some years all we get are ugly spikes of brown and green. But some years it's an explosion of yellow! Each spring I think of this poem "FORSYTHIA" by Mary Ellen Solt in 1966. It's a favorite of mine.
Ah, Spring! Ain't it grand? You share so many of your stories about your dad. This flower I associate with my mom, who loved the early harbinger of spring, brought brown sticks into the house and wove her magic over them so that we had tall yellow wands sprouting from a clear glass vase before the bush put forth its yellow flowers outside.
ReplyDeleteAnd what a splash it is! Wonderful shot!
ReplyDeleteHow pretty!
ReplyDeleteThat Forsythia leaves no doubt that spring is here! I really enjoyed the poem.
ReplyDeleteSunny :)
We used to have lots of it where I grew up. We used to make bows and arrows with them.
ReplyDeleteThat is such a poem of the 60s! The bush itself is a gorgeous explosion. I had no idea it was so emblematic of the change of season to you kind folk up in that corner.
ReplyDeleteWhat a perfect post of Poetry Month! I like shape poems and never saw this one. Thanks, Birdman.
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