Wednesday, May 30, 2007

The Forsythia Clings to Existence

When I moved from my old house to my current one three years ago, I brought with me a cutting from a giant forsythia bush that was the highlight of the property (I had nothing to do with its gloriousness—I inherited it from the previous residents). Not knowing what would happen, I planted the cutting in a mulched area in my new backyard and it soldiered on, not exactly flourishing but still putting out a few yellow flowers each spring.

Then one day a few weeks ago—I don't want to place blame so I'll use the passive voice—the forsythia was weed-whacked to oblivion. And understandably so: it was hard to distinguish from the overgrown weeds surrounding it. Just a couple nubs of stem remained. I was sad because the forsythia had nostalgia value. Not only did it come from my first house, but it was the first plant name I learned in adulthood, when I was finally becoming aware that the world around me was full of trees and flowers and bushes that weren't all oaks and tulips.

After a week away, I just leaves on the aforementioned nubs! How did that happen? I'm going to be keeping an eye on this situation.

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