#forsythia bush

[dwuerch-blog]

The Faithful Forsythias

Our recent journey across Canadian provinces and America’s upper states seems to have awakened my senses to appreciate God’s handiwork in places, nature, people and things more than ever before. And, that appreciation has given me food for thought and a new, keen awareness of His creation for my next blog. On excursions, traveling via bus along coastlines and towns, I couldn’t help but be…

[philgennuso]

Forsythia Bush (#Nature #Haiku #GraphicArts)

Forsythia Bush by Phil Gennuso Arts bright forsythia bushcelebrant of springherald of new beginnings ******************************** Yesterday I finally saw some Forsythia bushes blooming alongside some of the roads! Well, that does it! Daffodils, Crocus, and now the bright Forsythia bush, Spring is officially here to stay! For me, the crown jewel is the sweet Magnolia Blossom, but that is a…

[topoet]

Forsythias Spring Forth

Forsythia is one of the sure of signs of spring in Toronto. The yellow flowers are always a joy to behold. It is one of those bushes that bloom first then leaves appear. It is also a perennial that can survive winter weather.  These are a few of the many in my east-end neighbourhood. Mine was planted the first summer we lived in our house. in front of my house Hey! You can give me $$$ to…

[jesusonafrickinboat]

Then see what the flower looks like

[shadsiesartattic]

My Neighbor’s Forsythia  [IMAGE ID: Acrylic and Micron pen on watercolor paper.  The better part of a forsythia bush in bloom before a roadway.  It is a riot of little yellow flowers. / END IMAGE ID].  There are a few highlights on the original done in neon paint.  It scanned white, so I did a little bit of digital color-correction, too lazy to do so in detail, which is why there are some fuzzy areas.  I decided that those looked like sunlight was hitting the flowers, which is what my bright highlights were meant to convey, anyway.  I was too lazy to drag out the digital camera to get a better shot of this, which is the only way to get fluorescents / neons.  (The cameras are being readied for a trip, I don’t want to try to unpack them).   

[lacymoonchild]

[curiosityschild]

💛 Forsythia and Daffodils my beloveds 💛

[e-louise-bates]

LMM fans, what do we think Jane would have named the house at Lakeside Gardens once it was theirs?

Some description of it:

"It was a small house for Lakeside Gardens but a good deal bigger than Lantern Hill. It was built of gray stone and had casement windows ... some of them beautifully unexpected ... and a roof of shingles stained a very dark brown. It was built right on the edge of the ravine overlooking the tree tops, with five great pines just behind it."

"Jane went all around it and peered through every diamond-paned window. There was a living room that would really live once it was furnished, a dining room with a door that opened into a sun room, and the most delightful breakfast nook in pale yellow, with built-in china closets."

"At the back the ground was terraced right down to the floor of the ravine. There was a rock garden and a group of forsythia bushes that must have been fountains of pale gold in early spring. Three flights of stone steps went down the terraces, with the delicacy of birch shadows about them, and off to one side was a wild garden of slender young Lombardies."

...Then there's lots of description about the view and the lake and all that, but I'm not typing all that up.

I am rubbish at house/place names--my imagination is of a different sort, and even when as a kid I attempted to name places the way Anne did they were more along the lines of the kind of names Diana and Jane Andrews came up rather than Anne's, so I've got nothing, but my curiosity is piqued. What do you suppose LMM would have had Jane (& parents) name the house?

[loneberry]

notes from my sickbed

(From The Color of Pomegranates by Sergei Parajanov)

*

Books I’ve finished reading during my COVID convalescence. I read Shatz’s Fanon biography, The Rebel’s Clinic, with a race + psychoanalysis reading group I’ve been hosting for a few years now. I have mixed feelings about the book, but that topic is for another day.

Re: Minor Detail—listen to this wide-ranging interview with Palestinian novelist Adania Shibli. Toward the end there is a thought-provoking conversation about the question of the state. Loved the discussion of the hospitality of language. The bells tolling in the background. The agency of words, the being of silence. 

*

The only thing I like more than reading in bed is reading outside. I’ve just been sitting on my back porch from around 7:30am until an hour before sunset, reading and writing notes, pausing whenever there is a soft breeze to look at the quivering leaves of the maple, or to observe the adorable sparrows that have built a nest in the roof of my porch. (They fly off toward the tree when they sense I am looking at them.) I’ve been feeling quite weak, but I force myself to walk a little around sunset despite the shortness of breath. In the evening I watch films and fall asleep listening to podcasts. 

A couple days ago I walked past the old apartment I used to live in during the pandemic. Is it wrong to say—I felt a kind of relief when everything shut down, that my frenetic schedule of events + travel was instantly erased. I quite enjoy spending time alone, marinating in my thoughts, reading and writing all day, living in a semi-hallucinatory state induced by how intensely I live in these parallel worlds made up of words. (So some part of me finds pleasure in convalescing too.)

On Hancock Street, the bursting rose bushes have been uprooted to make room for the sleek new (hideous) house on the corner. The Mountain laurel and wild roses were blooming at the apartment I lived in during the pandemic. I thought about how well I got to know the tiny radius around that apartment, the almost-religious attention I paid to every inch of new plant growth, how I mapped my emotional state onto whatever was blooming in that moment—forsythia during the initial lockdown, the scent of lilac wafting in through the window as I completed my last weeks of grad school, the roses and mountain laurel blooms during the news of M’s suicide.

I walked on the trail I walked on during the pandemic, by the grape vines covering the fence of the community gardens, the same vines I observed four years ago while talking to M’s publisher on the phone, listening to his voice crack with emotion as he spoke about wishing there was something he could have done, while another part of my brain recoiled at the sight of the pockmarked leaves—a disease was spreading across the vines, possibly triggering my (moderate) trypophobia. He was saying something about a camera he had given her... 

I remember looking at the last orange light catching the tops of the maple trees and thinking, “You’ll never see that light.”

My oura ring metrics are still in the dumps (it’s funny this little smart ring knew I was sick before I did) but I think I am slowly getting over this bout of COVID. The fatigue and brain fog is crushing, but at least I can still smell the irises. 

[frostedlemonwriter]

Cara and the Will-o'-the-Wisp

Chapter 1 - The Door Under The Stairs

This is just a teaser for the novella. It is going to be 4 chapters and part of the Haven Bay anthology. It is under the cut. Enjoy!

Under the stairs, of which groaned and complained under any weight, sat an ancient weathered wooden door. Its once vibrant paint now chipped and faded, and to the young Cara, it seemed to beckon her. Which, out of her whole family, her slender frame could easily slide within, even if it never opened all the way. Within were only spider webs and an empty wooden box. Alongside the mustiness, dusty aroma that scrunched up her button nose.

Cara had discovered this hidden gem shortly after the movers placed the last box within her family’s new home. Though an unfamiliar place that failed to conjure the comforting essence of Oregon, her home state and the place she missed. Maine simply didn’t feel like home to her, not even a little bit. But, she thought to herself, at least a new place to explore.

Perched atop what locals referred to as a little mountain, Cara considered it more of a hill; a peculiar term for an unusual place, but she expected nothing less here. Tall, steepled roof which towered above, and provided a spacious attic, its vastness allowed for someone to live within. And the landlady, Mrs. Robyn Clarke, took advantage of it and rented the space. Which Cara had a brief introduction to, a Mr. Jacob Kaczmarek, the sole occupant. She considered him an odd old man, who seemed to be an endless source of tall tales. He carried with him an aura of unconventional wisdom, along with the acrid scent of cheap tobacco and cheaper alcohol.

Below the home, a finished wine cellar intrigued the twelve-year-old girl. Its aged wine shelves laid barren, minus a few bottles here and there. Mrs. Robyn Clarke reassured the family, anything that remained inside was no longer fit to drink. Cara couldn’t help but think that she had no desire to taste whatever was within those ancient bottles, anyway. Wine seemed gross. Cara would never drink it, always made adults act stupid.

Behind the old manor, nestled halfway down the hill where the land protruded before it sloped at a gentle angle to the ground, lay an ageless, well-maintained garden. Which the wooden sign proclaimed had been there since the mid-1800s, as long as the house itself. Right now, as part of his rent, under the careful stewardship of Mr. Kaczmarek, it remained pristine, untouched by any overgrowth. While majestic, weather-beaten trees provided a protective canopy, and cast dappled shadows over the vibrant flowers. Instead of delicate ornamental trees commonly found in gardens, these were robust giants. All stood tall against the harsh, icy winters that swept over Mount Desert Island.

“It’s even cold during the summer,” Cara said to the wind.

There down the side of the little mountain, a trail meandered its way toward the corner of the property that bordered an ancient forest. Cara imagined fantastical places with equally fantastic creatures, but before the woods sat another old building. It was a squat single-level home, its faded white paint peeled in the late summer sun. And the air carried the scent of cut grass and blooming flowers from the stunted, wind-blown forsythia bushes. Also brought with it a slight breeze—the young pre-teen wished she had brought her jacket.

As Cara approached, she could hear the distant hum of lawnmowers from the neighborhood not too far away, and the occasional chirping of birds that made their homes in the many trees. While she stepped up onto the front porch, it creaked under her weight, gave off the feeling as if it could collapse at any moment, even if it wouldn’t.

This was the home of the round-shaped landlord and her broadly-shouldered husband Adam, a couple who were as unassuming as their home. Inside, the air blew cold; the AC overworked this time of year. It felt like an icebox in the living room, which exhibited a worn-out couch dead center, its fabric threadbare, and the springs squeaked with each movement. An older HDTV played a muffled talk show that no one paid attention to. While twin brothers Steven and Sam, both sixteen and too cool for Cara and her middle school inquisitive nature, roosted like lazy birds, their faces buried in their handheld video games.

Meanwhile, the youngest daughter, Rowan, with her broad green eyes and curious gaze, displayed a genuine interest in the newcomer. More than happy to create a sense of friendship, at least they were both the same age. So that should make it easier.

“Oh cool, we’ll be in the same grade,” Rowan said after a moment and stated the obvious. “Ya know, in a week or so.”

Cara had no interest in the obvious. “Wanna come exploring with me? Any places of interest to see around here? Is there anything one has to see?” She prodded for information. New home meant unknown places to explore.

Rowan nodded her head with so much vigor that her reddish blonde curls bounced around. “Okay, so this is a very old and ancient place, alright? Come on. I’ll show you a few things.” And Cara, by the end of it all, couldn’t deny the fascination this place held.

In a small grove within the vast expanse of the woods were large rocks, all in intriguing and interesting shapes, which did interest Cara. One rock, in particular, bore an uncanny resemblance to a face when viewed from a bit of a distance. While just around the bend along the trail, a large cool fairy ring sat behind a boulder. Adorned with squishy little brown mushrooms, which stunk when crushed underfoot, Cara wouldn’t forget that. At the edge of the woods, still close to the property, stood an ancient stone well. Its heavy lid kept everyone out, and despite Cara’s growing strength, the lid remained immovable.

“Kind of gross to think people drank out of that,” Cara said as a toad croaked and jumped off the lid.

“Toad water.” Rowan scrunched up her nose. “One last thing I wanna show you today. My mom will probably be yelling for me soon anyways.”

“Surprised my mother hasn’t already.”

On the same old trail with the fairy ring, a sign directed those to Haven Bay just a bit of a hike through the forest. Rowan led Cara, who followed without a word between the girls. Despite the sun still being high overhead, it felt darker here somehow. Looked darker as the leaves blocked out most of the light, as thick as the canopy was. Several minutes later, Cara’s eyes widened at the old trees that had lined the trail, branches gnarled, and trunks thick, strong, seemed to hold the sky up all on their own. Wow, was all Cara could think.

“This place is magical. Don’t you feel it?” Rowan asked.

Cara scoffed, but said nothing. Magic isn’t real, she thought to herself. They were both far too old to believe in such things. Didn’t even believe in Santa anymore, for at least a few years.

She knew fables were just that—tales that you told to little children to keep their imagination growing. “Magic, really? You serious?”

Rowan opened her mouth to speak. Yet stopped once the piercing, shrill sound of her mother’s voice echoed through the trees. Cut through the air like a sharp knife. Which seemed to reverberate off the trees.

I could stay here alone, Cara thought to herself. Just at the mere suggestion caused a sense of unease to dig deep into the pit of her stomach. Her heart raced, skin prickled and raised goosebumps. All the while, the faint scene of damp earth danced along with the leaves from a soft breeze, which seemed to heighten her senses.

In this fleeting moment, Cara pondered the words of her newfound friend, allowed a flicker of curiosity to play in her mind. However, in the end, she succumbed to the pull of not being alone out here, and followed behind Rowan with a quickened pace.

Every day Cara’s mother would call for her for lunch and as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Which left plenty of time for her to do nothing inside the new home. Because she had already explored everything inside, Cara found it to be rather boring.

Father spent all day in his studio, a successful illustrator and cartoonist. Always nose deep into some project. While mother worked as an off-site accountant for various small businesses. Her laptop opened, ear buds plugged in to listen to music. Sat at the dining table to keep an eye on Cara, but she could always easily escape. Whenever she wanted to, Cara was a bit more sneaky than her parents expected.

Cara wasted far too much time on the streaming services before watching all the DVDs and BlueRays that they owned. She would stand beside a small living room window, watched the frequent rain pour outside. Not one of those rains where Cara could go outside and explore in the mud. No, one of the types that made the landscape look so much more alluring to her young mind. This rain turned the ground into a muddy soup, drenched the trees and made them droop under the weight of so much water.

“Can I go outside?” Cara pleaded with her mother, who typed away on the keyboard in a determined manner. “I won’t get dirty.”

Mother didn’t bother to look up from her work as she said, “You’ll get sick out there, dear. Just watch something on the TV.”

So, just like that, Cara groaned and stomped off into her father’s office. He wasn’t much better.

“Daaaaaad, can I go outside and play? Just out back. I wanna dig for frogs.” She didn’t really want to find any frogs.

His tone came out as bored and disinterested just like mother’s. Eyes never left the drawing desk. “What did your mother say?”

With a roll of her eyes, she replied, “Cara Quin! Don’t you dare go outside! You’ll get sick!”

“That’s your answer then, honey.”

Cara let out a long, exasperated, and wholly dramatic sigh, and said, “but it is so boring in here.”

“Sorry, honey, but I need to focus and finish this comic, okay? I promise to play some game with you after work.”

She didn’t like video games too much, other than a couple. That always was his response, so mother wouldn’t complain that he played video games too much. “Okay,” Cara said, turned on her heels, and strolled back into the hallway.

It didn’t take long for her to rediscover that door under the stairs. Now, unlike when they moved in, it seemed to be locked tighter than anything else.

Cara looked at her mother. “Can you open the door? I wanna see what’s behind it.”

“What’s behind what?” Mother’s reply came back sharp, terse, and broke her concentration. “You know I am busy. Besides, you already went under the stairs.” And that, as they say, was that for young Cara.

But something could have changed, Cara thought to herself with a huff.

Despite it being summer, Cara still had a bedtime to follow. Which, when she would protest, fell upon deaf ears. So instead, her gaze drifted toward the darkened woods outside her window. If nothing else, Cara got lucky that her room overlooked that old forest. Despite the rain, doing its best to hide it, Cara could still see the trees.

Then, with all the sneaky skills she could muster, Cara slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the window. That’s when she saw a faint light in the treeline, and not like the kind she had seen with a flashlight, or even a camera. Cara figured that whatever this was, displayed a lot more erratic and playful characteristics than that, it seemed. Bounced up and down, as if it jumped every few seconds, yet far too high for that to be an actual person.

Weird.

Just as quick as it had showed up, the light disappeared. Cara kept her wide brown eyes on the treeline for a moment longer. Until she climbed back under her blanket to try to get a little sleep. Yet, what looked like a shadow scurried across the floor, and one could easily mistake it as a mouse. Until it disappeared through her bedroom door. When, with the inquisitive of her age, Cara got back up and opened the door with a not-so-subtle creyeak!

Shadows covered the hallway. With the only light came from the small nightlight kept in the bathroom. Whose door stayed just open enough to make it easy to find, just in case. While the small, little shadow, which Cara did figure to be a mouse by this point, darted down the stairs. Where, despite how the stairs protested with squeaks and groans, Cara followed quickly after.

Then it disappeared through the door underneath the stairs. Unlike earlier today, where it seemed to be locked up tighter than anything else. Now, it stood ajar, and on her knees, Cara pulled the door open. From within, the sound of an old music box, so much like the one Cara remembered her grandmother having on that old wooden shelf. Yet here it played.

Darkness covered whatever caused the music to play. There within was a void so dark, so deep, that seemed to want to swallow her whole. Before she could crawl in, to see what could create such music. Maybe Cara missed an old music box that broke and just started playing all by itself. Sure, Cara.

“Cara, what are you doing?” Her mother’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

So much like a mother cat with her kittens, Cara felt her mother’s hand grip the back of her neck. Dragged away from the door before mother slammed it shut, the lock clicked and wouldn’t open again tonight.

Cara explained everything that had happened in quick, almost frantic words. But mother wouldn’t listen, chalked it up to her daughter’s imagination. Which she praised, encouraged Cara to write all her stories, and shooed her off to bed.

After a moment, Cara dropped her arms down to her side. Apologized to mother, and slumped off upstairs without another word. Though perhaps she figured that writing everything down wasn’t a bad idea. There was nothing but disbelief in mother’s eyes.

Would I believe it if I didn’t see it myself? She had to ask herself. Probably not.

Sleep finally overcame her that night.

Tag list:

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@pb-dot @illarian-rambling @ryns-ramblings @stonesandswords @sender-paulson

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@saltysupercomputer

[sgiandubh]

The trouble Jones photo has been looked at extensively at the time.... there are photos of the restaurant on Google. There is lots of shrubery and foliage as decor there. It is a bush behind him 🤷

He is a part of that circle of friends so it:s not surprising he was there ...

Dear Foliage Anon (and the other one, too),

It's a double b, for shrubbery. And, still that capital letters problem? Truc possible?

In English, shrubbery means this and it is one of the main classical features of a jardin à l'anglaise:

It heavily insists on shrubs, to give that studied négligé aspect to a landscape. This is a shrub, foliage on top:

Quite a different affair from that picture, huh?

Again: I do not remember this being discussed and if anything, that should be evidence enough that I was not there at the time. And so did a LOT of people who read this page.

Party poopers, aren't you?

PS: my grandma was a wonderful gardener. We had an exuberant Forsythia shrubbery just along the terrace of the house I spent all my childhood in. So, there's that. I think I can tell a bush from turf, as I can tell a crude photoshop from reality.

[bonefarm]

I have been trying to find a plant that can go in my West Facing South Oklahoma front garden basically since I moved here. It’s murdered everything. Zone 7a, windy, stormy, hot, cold. We have it all. This fall I’m doing a bush/tree gauntlet. In the running is a Sand Cherry, a chaste tree, three varieties of Abelia, hydrangea, forsythia and a couple of dwarf butterfly bushes.

May the odds be ever in their favor.

[briarpatch-kids]

Jojo found a safer spot to nest instead of under the rosebush. This one is under the Forsythia bush!

[dansnaturepictures]

12 of my favourite photos to take in December 2023 and month summary

The photos are of; Goldcrest at Lakeside Country Park, Blue Tit at Lakeside, Long-tailed Duck at Hayling Island Oysterbeds, mushrooms in Abbey Gardens, Roe Deer at Lakeside, turkey tail mushrooms at Fishlake Meadows, Silver-sided Sector spider at home, winter heliotrope at Lakeside, view at Winnall Moors, view at Southsea, view at Hayling Island and the stark looking rose bush in the garden with a few fading rose hips and yellow leaves.

December was a charming month packed full of wild wonder for me, a month where I had to do things a bit differently led to a huge focus on local areas and a couple of relatively fresh places for me visited and I saw some amazing wildlife to have a fitting end to an incredible year for me. In my birdwatching a final addition to my highest ever year list to bring my 2023 total a neat 220 came in the form of a bird I have a huge bond with and admiration for, the Black Redstart at Southsea Castle. This came a day after being mesmerised by wonderful views of the Long-tailed Duck and other birds at Hayling Island. Red Kite, Marsh Harrier, Stonechat, Rock Pipit, Nuthatch, Kingfisher, Jay, Mute Swan, Brent Geese, Red-breasted Merganser and Great White Egret were other key birds of my month. On my Lakeside walks the Goosanders continued to give with more fantastic sightings of them and the Common Gull was another welcome frequently seen winter visitor. Cormorant, fine views of Tufted Ducks, the cheery constant of Great Crested Grebes, Goldcrest, Green and Great Spotted Woodpecker, Jay, marvelous Redwings, Song Thrush, Wren, so many smashing moments seeing Long-tailed Tits, Kingfisher and Ring-necked Parakeet have been other key Lakeside sightings to bring me joy this month.

It has naturally quietened down for insects this month but I did manage a butterfly sightings with a probable Peacock seen quickly flying over at Lakeside and a hoverfly there on Christmas Eve. Grey Silverfish as well as frequent sightings of Long-bodied Cellar spider and the Silver-sided Sector spiders were interesting to see at home. It has been a memorable mammal month ending perhaps my greatest year of watching mammals with magical moments connecting with Roe Deers at Lakeside and Winnall Moors and a fair few Grey Squirrels and Brown Rats seen. Likewise with fungi a quieter month but multiple turkey tail sightings and some splendid candlesnuff fungi among others kept the interest up.

In a wet and relatively mild month a notable thing was how almost bizarre it was to notice things with plants a few weeks/months ahead of where they should be, from the verge at Lakeside bursting with winter heliotrope in flower and a violet to the hazel catkins beginning to adorn the landscape and the forsythia hedge out the front having a few flowers. Wild carrot and white deadnettle were two of a few of the summer/all season flowers I enjoyed in flower in places too. It was a great month of observing seed heads from fleabane to hogweed including gripping old man's beard and in an incredible fruit year bits of fruit still going like rose hips, hawthorn berries and holly berries. Mistletoe a key seasonal sight. Finally I enjoyed many breathtaking moments immersing myself in the outdoors at special sites taking in beautiful landscapes, with great sky scenes including the rainbow and the moon key to this month too. Happy New Year all!

[topoet]

My Garden January 1, 2024

New Year’s Eve brought Toronto its first snow that lasted more than an hour! We had a ‘green’ & overcast Christmas that was sort of depressing to look at. The white on New Year’s morning was a welcome sight. The snow didn’t last too long, it was gone by afternoon. boxwood & maple in front yard snapdragons in front garden forsythia in front garden dusty miller in back garden red berry bush in…

[tiredspacedragon]

For that ask game thing you reblogged:

31 and 32. Three favorite male names and 3 favorite female names. I like hearing people's opinions on this.

Oof, these are both hard but for opposite reasons. There are so many women's names I think are gorgeous, so it's hard to narrow it down to 3 I like the most. Meanwhile men's names are just really, aggressively bland 95% of the time. I can't think up enough for them! Here we go though!

31: a) Conor. I like Conner and Connor as well, but I favour the Irish spelling in particular. I'm fond of the sound of this one in general, but part of why I like it is because it was almost my name. It didn't make the final cut of course (no actual name of mine will be appearing on this list for privacy reasons, but I do quite like my actual name), but in some alternate universe out there, my name is Conor, and I think that's neat.

b) Ambrose. This one has a long, complicated history that I honestly don't particularly want to get into, but suffice to say it's the name of an OC I've been carrying around for more than a few years now :P

c) Cal, or any variation thereupon. So Callum, Calvin, etc. I'm not crazy about this one, but it's one that I keep coming back to as one I solidly like. I'm just a sucker for hard C's I guess.

32: a) Forsythia, shortened to Thia or Thea. I don't honestly know why I like this name so much. The Forsythia bush is a very pretty plant, but I have no special connection to it outside my fondness for the name. I just really like the sound. If at any point in my life I have a daughter, this is what I would like to name her. I would love a little Thea.

b) Kira. Yet another where I can't articulate exactly why I like, but this one has always stuck with me since I first heard it. It has a good balance of elegance and sharpness to it, I suppose. And yeah, another hard C/K name, big surprise.

c) Any variant of Sab, so Sabrina, Sabine, Sabina, Sabryn, etc. Something about these is just striking to me. Maybe it's that it almost sounds like they were derived from saber, which I'm fairly certain they were not, but the point stands. I feel like they stand out.