Forsythia is pure joy. There is not an ounce, not a glimmer of sadness or even knowledge in forsythia. Pure, undiluted, untouched joy.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh, American author and aviator (1906-2001)
Forsythia herald Spring's arrival with colour the equivalent of loud trumpet blasts. "Spring is here!", they call out. Dad took me for an afternoon drive to see a particularly giant display of their springtime cheer along the Old Dundas road. On the return ride home we took note of forsythia blooming all over the place, from tended gardens to wild roadsides.
Spring is here and there's new life to nurture and to hope for.
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