When I photographed signs of spring today, it was cold enough that I could see Koko's breath -- and yet there stood the forsythia, undaunted. I'm always amused when I see ruthlessly pruned forsythia.
On the island, forsythia grew on the north side of the town hall, facing the school. Trimmed? Never, as far as I know. Its spindly tendrils flung themselves around in the wind, of which there was plenty in early spring in northern Ohio. This bush, which sprung into bloom yesterday, looks pitiful, or at least embarrassed, in comparison.
As Anonymous once noticed, "Sometimes wild abandon is its own reward" -- a tenet city forsythia doesn't seem to know much about.
No comments:
Post a Comment