Blanche Ziegler’s
forsythia
Blanche Ziegler was born in the house. The yellow forsythia were the first time, as a little girl, she realized that there were seasons. She remembered loving them the year before. So her mother must have planted them.
It was just the beginning of awareness of all sorts of cycles and episodes. The Clarks had a lot of kids and Blanche noticed that when Mrs. Clark got fat in front, she would have another baby.
She learned that not only was there a forsythia spring, there was an iris summer and a fall. She noticed that noonday shadows are shorter in June and July, that when the sun rides high, the moon rides low.
Blanche’s mother must have planted them. Blanche never asked. Up close to the road, they shielded the house from the dust and the noise and the wagons. After the spring’s cascade of brilliant yellow blossoms, the arching branches covered great hiding places.
Sometimes men are worse than the deer. Blanche married Roy and he came to live in her aging mother’s house. He was trying to make a good impression, trimming back those untidy forsythia bushes by the road.
Blanche’s mother never spoke to him again, even though cutting them back like that made them bloom better a couple of springs later when Blanche gave the old lady a grand daughter and a vase of brilliant yellow blossoms.
Blanche Ziegler was born in the house. The yellow forsythia were the first time, as a little girl, she realized that there were seasons. She remembered loving them the year before. So her mother must have planted them.
It was just the beginning of awareness of all sorts of cycles and episodes. The Clarks had a lot of kids and Blanche noticed that when Mrs. Clark got fat in front, she would have another baby.
She learned that not only was there a forsythia spring, there was an iris summer and a fall. She noticed that noonday shadows are shorter in June and July, that when the sun rides high, the moon rides low.
Blanche’s mother must have planted them. Blanche never asked. Up close to the road, they shielded the house from the dust and the noise and the wagons. After the spring’s cascade of brilliant yellow blossoms, the arching branches covered great hiding places.
Sometimes men are worse than the deer. Blanche married Roy and he came to live in her aging mother’s house. He was trying to make a good impression, trimming back those untidy forsythia bushes by the road.
Blanche’s mother never spoke to him again, even though cutting them back like that made them bloom better a couple of springs later when Blanche gave the old lady a grand daughter and a vase of brilliant yellow blossoms.
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