This is a forsythia flower glorying in the late afternoon sun. You can’t help but admire its sunny personality, not to mention its persistence. At some point my husband cut this bush back so far that I didn’t even know we had forsythia in the yard, and I believe his intent was to kill it. Now look at it!
Forsythia is like that, though. It grows like a weed, and I can remember one place where it grew so big and so ugly that it almost turned me against the plant forever. It was in my parents’ back yard, near the fence that separated us from the neighbors that had the worst dog ever. It was like a jungle of forsythia there. And don’t even get me started on the dog. I haven’t liked dogs much since, either.
But this yellow fellow is so pretty, I may have to forgive forsythia for all its past sins. It just needs a strong guiding hand, someone to keep it in line.
“Hey, fellow. You grow so much as an inch out of line and my husband will cut you back within an inch of your life!”
Do you think this forsythia will behave itself?