***

Forsythia blooms gleeful, bright
in the waning rays of winter light
like spring come silently, overnight

***

Check out other Winter Light photos at Gardening Gone Wild. There are some cool shots.

The friend who suggested that I write a garden blog stopped by the other day and said, “This is the time of year that I wish I had some forsythia, but it’s just so vulgar.”

Now, mind you, this is a woman with few boundary issues—and, theoretically, plenty of space for forsythia in her life. She lives on 30 acres, has a Harry Potter plant collection of black irises, wormwood, mugwort, and coneflowers without pedals. She walks barefoot across hot coals at the solstice, has a rather—well, let’s just say—“open” marriage, and didn’t miss a beat the morning she found a naked dead guy on her front step. But she’s concerned about forsythia being “vulgar.”

“It’s your garden,” I said. “If you want some forsythia, you should have some.” She looked at me as if I’m wise, which I’m not. But, for a moment, I felt that way.